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THE   CELESTIAL   SISTERS.     Page  n. 


THE 


INDIAN  FAIRY  BOOK. 

FROM  THE  ORIGINAL  LEGENDS. 

BY 

CORNELIUS  MATHEWS. 

I 

Witt  Illustrations  by  Jota  IcLenan. 

ENGRAVED  BY  A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 


NEW-YORK: 
PUBLISHED  BY  ALLEN  BROTHERS. 

1869. 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  18C3, 

BY  CORNELIUS  MATHEWS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New-York. 


* 


PREFACE. 


THE  following  stories  have  been,  time  out  of  mind,  in 
their  original  form,  recited  around  the  lodge-fires  and 
under  the  trees,  by  the  Indian  story-tellers,  for  the  en 
tertainment  of  the  red  children  of  the  West.  They  were 
originally  interpreted  from  the  old  tales  and  legends  by 
the  late  Henry  B.  Schoolcraft,  and  are  now  re-interpreted 
and  developed  by  the  Editor,  so  as  to  enable  them,  as 
far  as  worthy,  to  take*a  place  with  the  popular  versions 
of  the  Arabian  Nights'  Entertainments,  Cinderella,  Little 
Red  Riding  Hood,  and  other  world-renowned  tales  of 
Europe  and  the  East,  to  which,  in  their  original  concep 
tion,  they  bear  a  resemblance  in  romantic  interest  and 
quaint  extravagance  of  fancy.  The  Editor  hopes  that 
these  beautiful  and  sprightly  legends  of  the  West,  if  not 
marred  in  the  handling,  will  repay,  in  part  at  least,  the 
glorious  debt  which  we  have  incurred  to  the  Eastern 
World  for  her  magical  gifts  of  the  same  kind. 

October,  1868. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGM 

L — THE  CELESTIAL  SISTERS ...  7 

H.— THE  BOY  WHO  SET  A  SNARE  FOR  THE  SUN. 16 

HE. — STRONG  DESIRE  AND  THE  RED  SORCERER 22 

IV.— THE  WONDERFUL  EXPLOITS  OF  GRASSHOPPER 34 

V.— THE  Two  JEEBI 68 

VL — OSSEO,  THE  SON.  OF  THE   EVENING  STAR 74 

VII. — GRAY  EAGLE'  AND  HIS  FIVE  BROTHERS. 83 

VHL— THE  TOAD-WOMAN 90 

IX. — THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  ROBIN 98 

X. — WHITE  FEATHER  AND  THE  Six  GIANTS 102 

XL — SHEEM,  THE  FORSAKEN  BOY. 115 

XTT. — THE  MAGIC  BUNDLE 135 

Xm.— THE  RED  SWAN 138 

* 

XTV. — THE  MAN  WITH  HIS  LEG  TIED  UP 170 

XV. — THE  LITTLE  SPIRIT  OR  BOY-MAN 179 

XVI.— THE  ENCHANTED  MOCCASINS..  .  190 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

XVII. — HE  OP  THE  LITTLE  SHELL 207 

XVIII. — MANABOZHO,  THE  MISCHIEF-MAKER 215 

XIX. — LEELINAU,  THE  LOST  DAUGHTER 252 

XX. — THE  WINTER  SPIRIT  AND  HIS  VISITOR 261 

XXL— THE  FIRE-PLUME 264 

XXIL — WEENDIGOES  AND  THE  BONE-DWARF 288 

XXHL— THE  BIRD  LOVER. 299 

XXIV. — BOKWEWA  THE    HUMPBACK 315 

XXV. — THE  CRANE  THAT  CROSSED  THE  RIVER 324 

XXVI. — "WUNZH,  THE  FATHER  OF  INDIAN  CORN 330 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

FRONTISPIECE. — THE  CELESTIAL  SISTERS 11 

THE  BEAR  SERVANTS 69 

THE  MAN  WITH  HIS  LEG  TIED  UP 176 

THE  MORNING  STAR  AND  HER  BROTHER. 212 


THE  CELESTIAL  SISTERS. 

WAUPEE,  or  the  White  Hawk,  lived  in  a  re- 
mote  part  of  the  forest,  where  animals 
abounded.  Every  day  he  returned  from  the  chase 
with  a  large  spoil,  for  he  was  one  of  the  most  skill 
ful  and  lucky  hunters  of  his  tribe.  His  form  was 
like  the  cedar;  the  fire  of  youth  beamed  from  his 
eye;  there  was  no  forest  too  gloomy  for  him  to  pene 
trate,  and  no  track  made  by  bird  or  beast  of  any 
kind  which  he  could  not  readily  follow. 

One  day  he  had  gone  beyond  any  point  which  he 
had  ever  before  visited.  He  traveled  through  an 
open  wood,  which  enabled  him  to  see  a  great  dis 
tance.  At  length  he  beheld  a  light  breaking  through 
the  foliage  of  the  distant  trees,  which  made  him  sure 
that  he  was  on  the  borders  of  a  prairie.  It  was  a 
wide  plain,  covered  with  long  blue  grass,  and  enam 
eled  with  flowers  of  a  thousand  lovely  tints. 

After  walking  for  some  time  without  a  path,  mus 
ing  upon  the  open  country,  and  enjoying  the  fra- 


8  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

grant  breeze,  he  suddenly  came  to  a  ring  worn 
among  the  grass  and  the  flowers,  as  if  it  had  been 
made  by  footsteps  moving  lightly  round  and  round. 
But  it  was  strange — so  strange  as  to  cause  the 
White  Hawk  to  pause  and  gaze  long  and  fixedly 
upon  the  ground — there  was  no  path  which  led  to 
this  flowery  circle.  There  was  not  even  a  crushed 
leaf  nor  a  broken  twig,  nor  the  least  trace  of  a  foot 
step,  approaching  or  retiring,  to  be  found.  He 
thought  he  would  hide  himself  and  lie  in  wait  to 
discover,  if  he  could,  what  this  strange  circle 
meant. 

Presently  he  heard  the  faint  sounds  of  music  in  the 
air.  He  looked  up  in  the  direction  they  came  from, 
and  as  the  magic  notes  died  away  he  saw  a  small 
object,  like  a  little  summer  cloud  that  approaches 
the  earth,  floating  down  from  above.  At  first  it 
was  very  small,  and  seemed  as  if  it  could  have  been 
blown  away  by  the  first  breeze  that  came  along;  but 
it  rapidly  grew  as  he  gazed  upon  it,  and  the  music 
every  moment  came  clearer  and  more  sweetly  to  his 
ear.  As  it  neared  the  earth  it  appeared  as  a  basket, 
and  it  was  filled  with  twelve  sisters,  of  the  most 
lovely  forms  and  enchanting  beauty. 

As  soon  as  the  basket  touched  the  ground  they 
leaped  out,  and  began  straightway  to  dance,  in  the 
most  joyous  manner,  around  the  magic  ring,  striking, 
as  they  did  so,  a  shining  ball,  which  uttered  the 


THE     CELESTIAL     SISTERS.  9 

most  ravishing  melodies,  and  kept  time  as  they 
danced 

The  White  Hawk,  from  his  concealment,  en 
tranced,  gazed  upon  their  graceful  forms  and  move 
ments.  He  admired  them  all,  but  he  was  most 
pleased  with  the  youngest.  He  longed  to  be  at  her 
side,  to  embrace  her,  to  call  her  his  own;  and  una 
ble  to  remain  longer  a  silent  admirer,  he  rushed  out 
and  endeavored  to  seize  this  twelfth  beauty  who  so 
enchanted  him.  But  the  sisters,  with  the  quick 
ness  of  birds,  the  moment  they  descried  the  form 
of  a  man,  leaped  back  into  the  basket,  and  were 
drawn  up  into  the  sky. 

Lamenting  his  ill-luck,  Waupee  gazed  longingly 
upon  the  fairy  basket  as  it  ascended  and  bore  the 
lovely  sisters  from  his  view.  ""They  are  gone,"  he 
said,  "  and  I  shall  see  them  no  more." 

He  returned  to  his  solitary  lodge,  but  he  found  no 
relief  to  his  mind.  He  walked  abroad,  but  to  look 
at  the  sky,  which  had  withdrawn  from  his  sight  the 
only  being  he  had  ever  loved,  was  painful  to  him 
now. 

The  next  day,  selecting  the  same  hour,  the  White 
Hawk  went  back  to  the  prairie,  and  took  his  station 
near  the  ring;  in  order  to  deceive  the  sisters,  he 
assumed  the  form  of  an  opossum,  and  sat  among 
the  grass  as  if  he  were  there  engaged  in  chewing 
the  cud.  He  had  not  waited  long  when  he  saw  the 


10  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

* 

cloudy  basket  descend,  and  heard  the  same  sweet 
music  falling  as  before.  He  crept  slowly  toward 
the  ring;  but  the  instant  the  sisters  caught  sight  of 
him  they  were  startled,  and  sprajig  into  their  car. 
It  rose  a  short  distance  when  one  of  the  elder  sisters 
spoke: 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  "  it  is  come  to  show  us  how 
the  game  is  played  by  mortals." 

"  Oh  no,"  the  youngest  replied;  "  quick,  let  us 
ascend." 

And  all  joining  in  a  chant,  they  rose  out  of 
sight. 

Waupee,  casting  off  his  disguise,  walked  sorrow 
fully  back  to  his  lodge — but  ah,  the  night  seemed 
very  long  to  lonely  White  Hawk!  His  whole  soul 
was  filled  with  the  thought  of  the  beautiful  sister. 

Betimes,  the  next  day,  he  returned  to  the'  haunted 
spot,  hoping  and  fearing,  and  sighing  as  though 
his  very  soul  would  leave  his  body  in  its  anguish. 
He  reflected  upon  the  plan  he  should  -  follow  to  se 
cure  success.  He  had  already  failed  twice;  to  fail  a 
third  time  would  be  fatal.  Near  by  he  found  an 
old  stump,  much  covered  with  moss,  and  just  then 
in  use  as  the  residence  of  a  number  of  mice,  who 
had  stopped  there  on  a  pilgrimage  to  some  relatives 
on  the  other  side  of  the  prairie.  The  White  Hawk 
was  so  pleased  with  their  tidy  little  forms  that  he 
thovght  he,  too,  would  be  a  mouse,  especially  as  they 


THE     CELESTIAL     SISTERS.  11 

were  by  no  means  formidable  to  look  at,  and  would 
not  be  at  all  likely  to  create  alarm. 

He  accordingly,  having  first  brought  the  stump 
and  set  it  near  the  ring,  without  further  notice  be 
came  a  mouse,  and  peeped  and  sported  about,  and 
kept  his  sharp  little  eyes  busy  with  the  others;  but 
he  did  not  forget  to  keep  one  eye  up  toward  the  sky, 
and  one  ear  wide  open  in  the  same  direction. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  sisters,  at  their  custom 
ary  hour,  carne  down  and  resumed  their  sport. 

"  But  see,"  cried  the  younger  sister,  "  that  stump 
was  not  there  before." 

She  ran  ofT,  frightened,  toward  the  basket.  Her 
sisters  only  smiled,  and  gathering  round  the  old  tree- 
stump,  they  struck  it,  in  jest,  when  out  ran  the 
mice,  and  among  them  Waupee.  They  killed  them 
all  but  one,  which  was  pursued  by  the  younger  sis 
ter.  Just  as  she  had  raised  a  silver  stick  which  she 
held  in  her  hand  to  put  an  end  to  it,  too,  the  form 
of  the  White  Hawk  arose,  and  he  clasped  his  prize 
in  his  arms.  The  other  eleven  sprang  to  their  bas 
ket,  and  were  drawn  up  to  the  skies. 

Waupee  exerted  all  his  skill  to  please  his*  bride 
and  win  her  affections.  He  wiped  the  tears  from 
her  eyes;  he  related  his  adventures  in  the  chase;  he 
dwelt  upon  the  charms  of  life  on  the  earth.  He  was 
constant  in  his  attentions,  keeping  fondly  by  her 
side,  and  picking  out  the  way  for  her  to  walk  as  he 


12  THE     INDIAN     FAIKY     BOOK. 

led  her  gently  toward  his  lodge.  He  felt  his  heart 
glow  with  joy  as  he  entered  it,  and  from  that  mo 
ment  he  was  one  of  the  happiest  of  men. 

Winter  and  summer  passed  rapidly  away,  and  as 
the  spring  drew  near  with  its  balmy  gales  and  its 
many-colored  flowers,  their  happiness  was  increased 
by  the  presence  of  a  beautiful  boy  in  their  lodge. 
What  more  of  earthly  blessing  was  there  for  them  to 
enjoy? 

Waupee's  wife  was  a  daughter  of  one  of  the  stars; 
and  as  the  scenes  of  earth  began  to  pall  upon  her 
sight,  she  sighed  to  revisit  her  father.  But  she  was 
obliged  to  hide  tiiese  feelings  from  her  husband. 
She  remembered  the  charm  that  would  carry  her  up, 
and  while  White  Hawk  was  engaged  in  the  chase, 
she  took  occasion  to  construct  a  wicker  basket, 
which  she  kept  concealed.  In  the  mean  time,  she 
collected  such  rarities  from  the  earth  as  she  thought 
would  please  her  father,  as  well  as  the  most  dainty 
kinds  of  food. 

One  day  when  Waupee  was  absent,  and  all  was  in 
readiness,  she  went  out  to  the  charmed  ring,  taking 
with  her  her  little  son.  As  they  entered  the  car  she 
commenced  her  magical  song,  and  the  basket  rose. 
The  song  was  sad,  and  of  a  lowly  and  mournful  ca 
dence,  and  as  it  was  wafted  far  away  by  the  wind, 
it  caught  her  husband's  ear.  It  was  a  voice  which 
he  well  knew,  and  he  instantly  ran  to  the  prairie 


THE     CELESTIAL     SISTERS.  13 

Though  he  made  breathless  speed,  he  could  not 
reach  the  ring  before  his  wife  and  child  had  ascended 
beyond  his  reach.  He  lifted  up  his  voice  in  loud  ap 
peals,  but  they  were  unavailing.  The  basket  still 
went  up.  He  watched  it  till  it  became  a  small 
speck,  and  finally  it  vanished  in  the  sky.  He  then 
bent  his  head  down  to  the  ground,  and  was  miser 
able. 

Through  a  long  winter  and  a  long  summer  Wau- 
pee  bewailed  his  loss,  but  he  found  no  relief.  The 
beautiful  spirit  had  come  and  gone,  and  he  should 
see  it  no  more! 

He  mourned  his  wife's  loss  sorely,  but  his  son's 
still  more;  for  the  boy  had  both  the  mother's  beauty 
and  the  father's  strength. 

In  the  mean  time  his  wife  had  reached  her  home 
in  the  stars,  and  in  the  blissful  employments  of  her 
father's  house  she  had  almost  forgotten  that  she  had 
left  a  husband  upon  the  earth.  But  her  son,  as  he 
grew  up,  resembled  more  and  more  his  father,  and 
every  day  he  was  restless  and  anxious  to  visit  the 
scene  of  his  birth.  His  grandfather  said  to  his 
daughter,  one  day: 

"  Go,  my  child,  and  take  your  son  down  to  his 
father,  and  ask  him  to  come  up  and  live  with  us. 
But  tell  him  to  bring  along  a  specimen  of  each  kind 
of  bird  and  animal  he  kills  in  the  chase." 

She   accordingly   took    the    boy   and   descended. 


14  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

The  White  Hawk,  who  was  ever  near  the  enchanted 
spot,  heard  her  voice  as  she  came  down  the  sky. 
His  heart  beat  with  impatience  as  he  saw  her  form 
and  that  of  his  son,  and  they  were  soon  clasped  in 
his  arms. 

He  heard  the  message  of  the  Star,  and  he  began 
to  hunt  with  the  greatest  activity,  that  he  might  col 
lect  the  present  with  all  dispatch.  He  spent  whole 
nights,  as  well  as  days,  in  searching  for  every  curious 
and  beautiful  animal  and  bird.  He  only  preserved  a 
foot,  a  wing,  or  a  tail  o*f  each. 

When  all  was  ready,  Waupee  visited  once  more 
each  favorite  spot — the  hill-top  whence  he  had  been 
used  to  see  the  rising  sun;  the  stream  where  he  had 
sported  as  a  boy;  the  old  lodge,  now  looking  sad  and 
solemn,  which  he  was  to  sit  in  no  more;  and  last  of 
all,  coming  to  the  magic  circle,  he  gazed  widely 
around  him  with  tearful  eyes,  and,  taking  his  wife 
and  child  by  the  hand,  they  entered  the  car  and 
were  drawn  up — into  a  country  far  beyond  the  flight 
of  birds,  or  the  power  of  mortal  eye  to  pierce. 

Great  joy  was  manifested  upon  their  arrival  at  the 
starry  plains.  The  Star  Chief  invited  all  his  people 
to  a  feast;  and  when  they  had  assembled,  he  pro 
claimed  aloud  that  each  one  might  continue  as  he 
was,  an  inhabitant  of  his  own  dominions,  or  select 
of  the  earthly  gifts  such  as  he  liked  best.  A  very 
strange  confusion  immediately  arose;  not  one  but 


THE     CELESTIAL    SISTEES.  15 

sprang  forward.  Some  chose  a  foot,  some  a  wing, 
some  a  tail,  and  some  a  claw.  Those  who  selected 
tails  or  claws  were  changed  into  animals,  and  ran 
off;  the  others  assumed  the  form  of  birds,  and  flew 
away.  Waupee  chose  a  white  hawk's  feather.  His 
wife  and  son  followed  his  example,  and  each  one  "be 
came  a  white  hawk.  He  spread  his  wings,  and,  fol 
lowed  by  his  wife  and  son,  descended  with  the  other 
birds  to  the  earth,  where  he  is  still  to  be  found,  with 
the  brightness  of  the  starry  plains  in  his  eye,  and 
the  freedom  of  the  heavenly  breezes  in  his  wings. 


II. 

THE  BOY  WHO  SET  A  SNARE  FOR  THE  SUN. 

AT  the  time  when  the  animals  reigned  in  the 
earth,  they  had  killed  all  the  people  but  a  girl 
and  her  little  brother,  and  these  two  were  living  in 
fear,  in  an  out-of-the-way  place.  The  boy  was  a  per 
fect  little  pigmy,  and  never  grew  beyond  the  size  of  a 
mere  infant ;  but  the  girl  increased  with  her  years, 
so  that  the  task  of  providing  food  and  shelter  fell 
wholly  upon  her.  She  went  out  daily  to  get  wood  for 
the  lodge-fire,  and  she  took  her  little  brother  with  her 
that  no  mishap  might  befall  him  ;  for  he  was  too 
little  to  leave  alone.  A  big  bird,  of  a  mischievous 
disposition,  might  have  flown  away  with  him.  She 
made  him  a  bow  and  arrows,  and  said  to  him  one 
day,  "My  little  brother,  I  will  leave  you  behind 
where  I  have  been  gathering  the  wood  ;  you  must 
hide  yourself,  and  you  will  soon  see  the  snow-birds 
come  and  pick  the  worms  out  of  the  logs  which  I 
have  piled  up.  Shoot  one  of  them  and  bring  it  home/' 


THE    BOY    WHO    SET    A    SNARE.  17 

i  e  obeyed  her,  and  tried  his  best  to  kill  one,  but 
he  came  home  unsuccessful.  His  sister  told  him 
that  he  must  not  despair,  but  try  again  the  next 
day. 

She  accordingly  left  him  at  the  gathering-place  of 
the  wood,  and  returned  to  the  lodge.  Toward  night 
fall  she  heard  his  little  footsteps  crackling  through 
the  snow,  and  he  hurried  in  and  threw  down,  with  an 
air  of  triumph,  one  of  the  birds  which  he  had  killed. 
"  My  sister,"  said  he,  "I  wish  you  to  skin  it,  and 
stretch  the  skin,  and  when  I  have  killed  more,  I  will 
have  a  coat  made  out  of  them." 

"  But  what  shall  we  do  with  the  body  ?"  said  she  ; 
for  they  had  always  up  to  that  time  lived  upon 
greens  and  berries. 

"  Cut  it  in  two,"  he  answered,  "  and  season  our 
pottage  with  one  half  of  it  at  a  time." 

It  was  their  first  dish  of  game,  and  they  relished  it 
greatly. 

The  boy  kept  on  in  his  efforts,  and  in  the  course 
of  time  he  killed  ten  birds — out  of  the  skins  of  which 
his  sister  made  hirn  a  little  coat :  being  very  small,  he 
had  a  very  pretty  coat,  and  a  bird  skin  to  spare. 

"  Sister,"  said  he,  one  day,  as  he  paraded  up  and 
down  before  the  lodge,  enjoying  his  new  coat,  and 
fancifying  himself  the  greatest  little  fellow  in  the 
world — as  he  was,  for  there  was  no  other  beside  him — 
"  My  sister,  are  we  really  alone  in  the  world,  or  are 


18  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

we  playing  at  it  ?  Is  there  nobocb-  else  living  ? 
And,  tell  me,  was  all  this  great  broad  earth  and  this 
huge  big  sky  made  for  a  little  boy  and  girl  like  yo^ 
and  me  ?" 

She  told  him,  by  no  means  ;  there  were  many 
folks  very  unlike  a  harmless  girl  and  boy,  such  as 
they  were,  who  lived  in  a  certain  other  quarter  of  the 
earth,  who  had  killed  off  all  of  their  kinsfolk  ;  and 
that  if  he  would  live  blameless  and  not  endanger  his 
life,  he  must  never  go  where  they  were.  This  only 
served  to  inflame  the  boy's  curiosity ;  and  he  soon 
after  took  his  bow  and  arrows  and  went  in  that 
direction.  After  walking  a  long  time  and  meeting 
no  one,  he  became  tired,  and  stretched  himself  upon 
a  high  green  knoll  where  the  day's  warmth  had 
melted  off  the  snow. 

It  was  a  charming  place  to  lie  upon,  and  he  fell 
asleep  ;  and,  while  sleeping,  the  sun  beat  so  hot  upon 
him  that  it  not  only  singed  his  bird-skin  coat,  but  it 
so  shrivelled  and  shrunk  and  tightened  it  upon  the 
little  boy's  body,  as  to  wake  him  up. 

When  he  felt  how  the  sun  had  seared  and  the  mis 
chief  its  fiery  beams  had  played  with  the  coat  he  was 
so  proud  of,  he  flew  into  a  great  passion,  and  berated 
the  sun  in  a  terrible  way  for  a  little  boy  no  higher 
than  a  man's  knee,  and  he  vowed  fearful  things 
against  it. 

"  Do  not  think  you  are  too  high,"  said  he  ;  "I 


THE    BOY    WHO    SET    A    SNARE.  19 

ehall  revenge  myself.  Oh,  sun  !  I  will  have  you  for 
a  plaything  yet." 

On  coming  home  he  gave  an  account  of  his  misfor 
tune  to  his  sister,  and  bitterly  bewailed  the  spoiling 
of  his  new  coat.  He  would  not  eat — not  so  much  as 
a  single  berry.  He  lay  down  as  one  that  fasts  ;  nor 
did  he  move  nor  change  his  manner  of  lying  for  ten 
full  days,  though  his  sister  strove  to  prevail  on  him 
to  rise.  At  the  end  of  ten  days  he  turned  over,  and 
then  he  lay  full  ten  days  on  the  other  side. 

When  he  got  up  he  was  very  pale,  but  very  reso 
lute  too.  He  bade  his  sister  make  a  snare,  for,  he 
informed  her,  that  he  mearjt  to  catch  the  sun.  She 
said  she  had  nothing  ;  but  after  awhile  she  brought 
forward  a  deer's  sinew  which  the  father  had  left,  and 
which  she  soon  made  into  a  string  suitable  for  a 
noose.  The  moment  she  showed  it  to  him  he  was 
quite  wroth,  and  told  her  that  would  not  do,  and 
directed  her  to  find  something  else.  She  said  she 
had  nothing — nothing  at  all.  At  last  she  thought  of 
the  bird-skin  that  was  left  over  when  the  coat  was 
made;  and  this  she  wrought  into  a  string.  With  this 
the  little  boy  was  more  vexed  than  before.  "  The 
sun  has  had  enough  of  my  bird-skins,"  he  said  ;  "  find 
something  else."  She  went  out  of  the  lodge  saying 
to  herself,  "  Was  there  ever  so  obstinate  a  boy  ?"  She 
did  not  dare  to  answer  this  time  that  she  had  noth 
ing.  Luckily  she  thought  of  her  own  beautiful  hair, 


20  THE    INDIAN    FAIKY    BOOK. 

and  pulling  some  of  it  from  among  her  locks,  she 
quickly  braided  it  into  a  cord,  and,  returning,  she 
handed  it  to  her  brother.  The  moment  his  eye  fell 
upon  this  jet  black  braid  he  was  delighted.  "This 
will  do,"  he  said  ;  and  he  immediately  began  to  run 
it  back  and  forth  through  his  hands  as  swiftly  as  he 
could  ;  and  as  he  drew  it  forth,  he  tried  its  strength. 
He  said  again,  '"  this  will  do  ;"  and  winding  it  in  a 
glossy  coil  about  his  shoulders,  he  set  out  a  little 
after  midnight.  *His  object  was  to  catch  the-  sun 
before  he  rose.  He  fixed  his  snare  firmly  on  a  spot 
just  where  the  sun  must  strike  the  land  as  it  rose 
above  the  earth ;  and  sure  enough,  he  caught  the 
sun,  so  that  it  was  held  fast  in  the  cord  and  did  not 
rise. 

The  animals  who  ruled  the  earth  were  immediately 
put  into  great  commotion.  They  had  no  light ;  and 
they  ran  to  and  fro,  calling  out  to  each  other,  and  in 
quiring  what  had  happened.  They  summoned  a 
council  to  debate  upon  the  matter,  and  an  old  dor 
mouse,  suspecting  where  the  trouble  lay,  proposed 
that  some  one  should  be  appointed  to  go  and  cut 
the  cord.  This  was  a  bold  thing  to  undertake,  as 
the  rays  of  the  sun  could  not  fail  to  burn  whoever 
should  venture  so  near  to  them. 

At  last  the  venerable  dormouse  himself  undertook 
it,  for  the  very  good  reason  that  no  one  else  would. 
At  this  time  the  dormouse  was  the  largest  animal  in 


THE    BOY    WHO    SET    A    SNARE.  21 

the  world.  When  he  stood  up  he  looked  like  a 
mountain.  It  made  haste  to  the  place  where  the  sun 
lay  ensnared,  and  as  it  came  nearer  and  nearer,  its 
back  began  to  smoke  and  bum  with  the  heat,  and 
the  whole  top  of  his  huge  bulk  was  turned  in  a  very 
short  time  to  enormous  heaps  of  ashes.  It  suc 
ceeded,  however,  in  cutting  the  cord  with  its  teeth 
and  freeing  the  sun,  which  rolled  up  again,  as  round 
and  beautiful  as  ever,  into  the  wide  blue  sky.  But 
the^.  dormouse — or  blind  woman  as  it  is  called — was 
shrunk  away  to  a  very  small  size  ;  and  that  is  the 
reason  why  it  is  now  one  of  the  tiniest  creatures  upon 
the  earth. 

The  little  boy  returned  home  when  he  discovered 
that  the  sun  had  escaped  his  snare,  and  devoted 
himself  entirely  to  hunting.  "  If  the  beautiful  hair 
of  my  sister  would  not  hold  the  sun  fast,  nothing 
in  the  world  could,"  he  said.  "  He  was  not  born,  a 
little  fellow  like  himself,  to  look  after  the  sun.  It 
required  one  greater  and  wiser  than  he  was  to  regu 
late  that."  And  he  went  out  and  shot  ten  more 
snow-birds  ;  for  in  this  business  he  was  very  expert ; 
and  he  had  a  new  bird-skin  coat  made,  which  was 
prettier  than  the  one  he  had  worn  before. 


III. 

STRONG  DESIRE,  AND  THE  RED  SORCERER 


was  a  man  called  Odshedoph,  or  the 
J-  Child  of  Strong  Desires,  who  had  a  wife  and 
one  son.  He  had  withdrawn  his  family  from  the 
village,  where  they  had  spent  the  winter,  to  the 
neighborhood  of  a  distant  forest,  where  game 
abounded.  This  wood  was  a  day's  travel  from  his 
winter  home,  and  under  its  ample  shadow  the  wife 
fixed  the  lodge,  while  the  husband  went  out  to  hunt. 
Early  in  the  evening  he  returned  with  a  deer,  and, 
being  weary  and  athirst,  he  asked  his  son,  whom  he 
called  Strong  Desire,  to  go  to  the  river  for  some 
water.  The  son  replied  that  it  was  dark,  and  he  was 
afraid.  His  father  still  urged  him,  saying  that  his 
mother,  as  well  as  himself,  was  tired,  and  the  dis 
tance  to  the  water  very  short.  But  no  persuasion 
could  overcome  the  young  man's  reluctance.  He 
refused  to  go. 

"  Ah,  my  son,"  said  the  father,  at  last,  "  if  you 


THE    RED    SORCERER.  23 

are  afraid  to  go  to  the  river,  you  will  never  kill  the 
Bed  Head." 

The  stripling  was  deeply  vexed  by  this  observa 
tion;  it  seemed  to  touch  him  to  the  very  quick.  He 
mused  in  silence.  He  refused  to  eat,  and  made  no 
reply  when  spoken  to.  He  sat  'by  the  lodge'  door 
all  the  night  through,  looking  up  at  the  stars,  and 
sighing  like  one  sorely  distressed. 

The  next  day  he  asked  his  mother  to  dress  the 
skin  of  the  deer,  and  to  make  it  into  moccasins  for 
him,  while  he  busied  himself  in  preparing  a  bow 
and  arrows. 

As  soon  as  these  were  in  readiness,  he  left  the 
lodge  one  morning,  at  sunrise,  without  saying  a  word 
to  his  father  or  mother.  As  he  passed  along,  he  fired 
one  of  his  arrows  into  the  air,  which  fell  westward. 
He  took  that  course,  and  coming  to  the  spot  where 
the  arrow  had  fallen,  he  was  rejoiced  to  find  it  pierc 
ing  the  heart  of  a  deer.  He  refreshed  himself  with 
a  meal  of  the  venison,  and  the  next  morning  he 
fired  another  arrow.  Following  its  course,  after 
traveling  all  day  he  found  that  he  had  transfixed 
another  deer.  In  this  manner  he  fired  four  arrows, 
and  every  evening  he  discovered  that  he  had  killed 
a  deer. 

By  a  strange  oversight,  he  left  the  arrows  sticking 
in  the  carcasses,  and  passed  on  without  withdrawing 
them.  Having  in  this  way  no  arrow  for  the  fifth 


24  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

day,  he  was  in  great  distress  at  night  for  the  wan' 
of  food. 

At  last  he  threw  himself  upon  the  earth  in  de 
spair,  concluding  that  he  might  as  well  perish  there 
as  go  further.  But  he  had  not  lain  long  before  hi 
heard  a  hollow  rumbling  noise,  in  the  ground  beneath 
him,  like  that  of  an  earthquake  moving  slowly  along. 

He  sprang  up,  and  discovered  at  a  distance  the 
figure  of  a  human  being,  walking  with  a  stick.  He 
looked  attentively,  and  saw  that  the  figure  was  walk 
ing  in  a  wide  beaten  path  in  a  prairie,  leading  from 
a  dusky  lodge  to  a  lake,  whose  waters  were  black  and 
turbid. 

To  his  surprise,  this  lodge,  which  had  not  been  in 
view  when  he  cast  himself  upon  the  ground,  was 
now  near  at  hand.  He  approached  a  little  nearer, 
and  concealed  himself;  and  in  a  moment  ke  discov 
ered  that  the  figure  was  no  other  than  that  of  the 
terrible  witch,  the  little  old  woman  who  makes  war. 
Her  path  to  the  lake  was  perfectly  smooth  and  solid, 
and  the  noise  Strong  Desire  Tiad  heard  was  caused 
by  the  striking  of  her  walking  staff  upon  the  ground. 
The  top  of  this  staff  was  decorated  with  a  string  of 
the  toes  and  bills  of  birds  of  every  kind,  who,  at 
every  stroke  of  the  stick,  fluttered  and  sung  their  va 
rious  notes  in  concert. 

She  entered  her  lodge  and  laid  off  her  mantle, 
which  was  entirely  composed  of  the  scalps  of  women. 


THE     RED     SORCERER.  25 

Before  folding  it,  she  shook  it  several  times,  and  at 
every  shake  the  scalps  uttered  loud  shouts  of  laugh 
ter,  in  which  the  old  hag  joined.  The  boy,  who 
lingered  at  the  door,  was  greatly  alarmed,  but  he 
uttered  no  cry. 

After  laying  by  the  cloak,  she  came  directly  to 
him.  Looking  at  him  steadily,  she  informed  him 
that  she  had  known  him  from  the  time  he  had  left 
his  father's  lodge,  and  had  watched  his  movements. 
She  told  him  not  to  fear  or  despair,  for  she  would  be 
his  protector  and  friend.  She  invited  him  into  her 
lodge,  and  gave  him  a  supper.  During  the  repast, 
she  questioned  him  as  to  his  motives  for  visiting  her. 
He  related  his  history,  stated  the  manner  in  which 
he  had  been  disgraced,  and  the  difficulties  he  labored 
under. 

"  Now  tell  me  truly,"  said  the  little  old  woman 
who  makes  war,  "  you  were  afraid  to  go  to  the  water 
in  the  dark/' 

"  I  was/'  Strong  Desire  answered,  promptly. 

As  he  replied,  the  hag  waved  her  staff.  The 
birds  set  up  a  clamorous  cry,  and  the  mantle  shook 
violently  as  all  the  scalps  burst  into  a  hideous  shout 
of  laughter. 

"  And  are  you  afraid  now,"  she  asked  again. 

"  I  am,"  again  answered  Strong  Desire,  without 
hesitation. 

"  But  you  are  not  afraid  to  speak  the  truth,"  re- 

2 


26  THE    INDIAN     FAIRY    BOOK. 

joined  the  little  old  woman.     "  You  will  be  a  brave 
man  yet." 

She  cheered  him  with  the  assurance  of  her  friend 
ship,  and  began  at  once  to  exercise  her  power  upon 
hirn.  His  hair  being  very  short,  she  took  a  great 
leaden  comb,  and  after  drawing  it  through  his  locks 
several  times,  they  became  of  a  handsome  length  like 
those  of  a  beautiful  young  woman.  She  then  pro 
ceeded  to  dress  him  as  a  female,  furnishing  him  with 
the  necessary  garments,  and  tinting  his  face  with  col 
ors  of  the  most  charming  dye.  She  gave  him,  too,  a 
bowl  of  shining  metal.  She  directed  him  to  put  in 
his  girdle  a  blade  of  scented  sword-grass,  -and  to  pro 
ceed  the  next  morning  to  the  banks  of  the  lake, 
which  was  no  other  than  that  over  which  the  Ked 
Head  reigned.  Now  Hah-Undo-Tah,  or  the  Eed 
Head,  was  a  most  powerful  sorcerer,  living  upon  an 
island  in  the  centre  of  his  realm  of  water,  and  he 
was  the  terror  of  all  the  country.  She  informed  him 
that  there  would  be  many  Indians  upon  the  island, 
who,  as  soon  as  they  saw  him  use  the  shining  bowl  to 
drink  with,  would  come  and  solicit  him  to  be  their 
wife,  and  to  take  him  over  to  the  island.  These 
offers  he  was  to  refuse,  and  to  say  that  he  had  come 
a  great  distance  to  be  the  wife  of  the  Bed  Head,  and 
that  if  the  chief  could  not  seek  her  for  himself, 
she  would  return  to  her  village.  She  said,  that 
as  soon  as  the  Eed  Head  heard  of  this  he  would 


THE    RED    SORCERER.  27 

come  for  her  in  his  own  canoe,  in  which  she  must 
embark. 

"  On  reaching  the  shore/'  added  the  little  old  wo 
man,  "  you  must  consent  to  be  his  wife  ;  and  in  the 
evening  you  are  to  induce  him  to  take  a  walk  out  of 
the  village,  and  when  you  have  reached  a  lonesome 
spot,  use  the  first  opportunity  to  cut  off  his  head 
with  the  blade  of  grass/' 

She  also  gave  Strong  Desire  general  advice  how 
he  was  to  conduct  himself  to  sustain  his  assumed 
character  of  a  woman.  His  fear  would  scarcely  per 
mit  him  to  consent  to  engage  in  an  adventure  at 
tended  with  so  much  danger  ;  but  the  recollection  of 
his  father's  looks  and  reproaches  of  the  want  of 
courage,  decided  him. 

Early  in  the  morning  he  left  the  lodge  of  the  little 
old  woman  who  makes  war,  which  w^s  clouded  in  a 
heavy  brackish  fog,  so  thick  and  heavy  to  breathe, 
that  he  with  difficulty  made  his  way  forth.  When 
he  turned  to  look  back  for  it,  it  was  gone. 

He  took  the  hard  beaten  path  to  the  banks  of  the 
lake,  and  made  for  the  water  at  a  point  directly  op 
posite  the  Ked  Head's  kdge. 

Where  he  now  stood  it  was  beautiful  day.  The 
heavens  were  clear,  and  the  sun  shone  out  as  brightly 
to  Strong  Desire  as  on  the  first  morning  when  he 
had  put  forth  his  little  head  from  the  door  of  his 
father's  lodge.  He  had  not  been  long  there,  saunter- 


28  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

ing  along  the  beach,  when -he  displayed  the  glitter 
ing  bowl  by  dipping  water  from  the  lake.  Very  soon 
a  number  of  canoes  came  off  from  the  island.  The 
men  admired  his  dress,  and  were  charmed  with  his 
beauty,  and  almost  with  one  voice  they  all  made  pro 
posals  of  marriage.  These,  Strong  Desire  promptly 
declined.  * 

When  this  was  reported  to  Ked  Head,  he  ordered 
his  royal  bark  to  be  launched  by  his  chosen  men  of 
the  oar,  and  crossed  over  to  see  this  wonderful  girl. 
As  they  approached  the  shore,  Strong  Desire  saw 
that  the  ribs  of  the  sorcerer's  canoe  were  formed  of 
living  rattlesnakes,  whose  heads  pointed  outward  to 
guard  him  from  his  enemies.  Being  invited,  he 
had  no  sooner  stepped  into  the  canoe,  than  they  be 
gan  to  hiss  and  rattle  furiously,  which  put  him  in  a 
great  fright ;  but  the  magician  spoke  to  them,  when 
they  became  pacified  and  quiet.  Shortly  after  they 
were  at  the  landing  upon  the  island.  The  marriage 
took  place  immediately  ;  and  the  bride  made  pres 
ents  of  various  valuables  which  had  been  furnished 
her  by  the  old  witch  who  inhabited  the  cloudy  lodge. 

As  they  were  sitting  in  tfe  lodge,  surrounded  by 
the  friends  and  relatives,  the  mother  of  the  Eed 
Head  regarded  the  face  of  her  new  daughter-in-law 
for  a  long  time  with  fixed  attention.  From  this 
scrutiny  she  was  convinced  that  this  singular  and 
hasty  marriage  boded  no  good  to  her  son.  She  drew 


THE     RED    SORCERER.  29 

him  aside,  and  disclosed  to  him  her  suspicions. 
This  can  be  no  female,  said  she  ;  she  has  the  fig 
ure  and  manners,  the  countenance,  and  more  espe 
cially  the  eyes,  are  beyond  a  doubt  those  of  a  man. 
Her  husband  rejected  her  suspicions,  and  rebuked 
her  severely  for  entertaining  such  notions  of  her  own 
daughter-in-law.  She  still  urged  her  doubts,  which 
so  vexed  the  husband  that  he  broke  his  pipe-stem 
in  her  face,  and  called  her  an  owl. 

This  act  astonished  the  company,  who  sought  an 
explanation  ;  and  it  was  no  sooner  given,  than  the 
mock  bride,  rising  with  an  air  of  oifended  dignity, 
informed  the  Red  Head  that  after  receiving  so  gross 
an  affront  from  his  relatives  she  could  not  think  of 
remaining  with  him  as  his  wife,  but  should  forthwith 
return  to  her  own  friends. 

With  a  toss  of  the  head,  like  that  of  an  angry 
female,  Strong  Desire  left  the  lodge,  followed  by  Eed 
Head,  and  walked  away  until  he  came  to  the  beach 
of  the  island,  near  the  spot  where  they  had  first 
landed.  Eed  Head  entreated  him  to  remain,  urging 
every  motive,  and  making  all  sorts  of  magnificent 
promises — none  of  which  seemed  to  make  the  least 
impression.  Strong  Desire,  Ked  Head  thought,  was 
very  hard-hearted.  During  these  appeals  they  had 
seated  themselves  upon  the  ground,  and  Ked  Head, 
in  great  affliction,  reclined  his  head  upon  his  fancied 
wife  s  lap.  Strong  Desire  now  changed  his  manner, 


30  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

was  very  kind  and  soothing,  and  suggested  in  the 
most  winning  accent  that  if  Ked  Head  would  sleep 
soundly  for  awhile  he  might  possibly  dream  himself 
out  of  all  his  troubles.  Ked  Head,  delighted  at  so 
happy  a  prospect,  said  that  he  would  fall  asleep  im 
mediately. 

"  You  have  killed  a  good  many  men  in  your  time, 
Ked  Head,"  said  Strong  Desire,  by  way  of  suggest 
ing  an  agreeable  train  of  ideas  to  the  sorcerer. 

" Hundreds,"  answered  Ked  Head;  "and  what  is 
better,  now  that  I  am  fairly  settled  in  life  by  this 
happy  marriage,  I  shall  be  able  to  give  my  whole  at 
tention  to  massacre." 

"And  you  will  kill  hundreds  more,"  interposed 
Strong  Desire,  in  the  most  insinuating  manner  im 
aginable. 

"  Just  so,  my  dear,"  Ked  Head  replied,  with  a 
great  leer;  "  thousands.  There  will  be  no  end  to  my 
delicious  murders.  I  love  dearly  to  kill  people.  I 
would  like  to  kill  you  if  you  were  not  my  wife." 

"  There,  there,"  said  Strong  Desire,  with  the  coax 
ing  air  of  a  little  coquette,  "go  to  sleep;  that's  a 
good  Ked  Head." 

No  other  subject  of  conversation  occurring  to  the 
chief,  now  that  he  had  exhausted  the  delightful  topic 
of  wholesale  murder,  he  straightway  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep. 

The  chance  so  anxiously  sought  for  had  come;  and 


THE    RED     SORCERER.  31 

Strong  Desire,  with  a  smiling  eye,  drawing  his  blade 
of  grass  with  lightning   swiftness  once   across    the 
neck  of  the  Eed  Head,  severed  the  huge  and  wicked  % 
head  from  the  body. 

In  a  moment,  stripping  off  his  woman's  dress, 
underneath  which  he  had  all  along  worn  his  male 
attire,  Strong  Desire  seized  the  bleeding  trophy, 
plunged  into  the  lake,  and  swam  safely  over  to  the 
ma  in  shore.  He  had  scarcely  reached  it,  when,  look 
ing  back,  he  saw  amid  the  darkness  the  torches  of 
persons  come  out  in  search  of  the  new  married 
couple.  He  listened  until  they  had  found  the  head 
less  body,  and  he  heard  their  piercing  shrieks  of  rage 
and  sorrow  as  he  took  his  way  to  the  lodge  of  his 
kind  adviser. 

The  little  old  woman  who  makes  war  was  in  an 
excellent  humor,  and  she  received  Strong  Desire  with 
rejoicing. .  She  admired  his  prudence,  and  assured  him 
his  bravery  should  never  be  questioned  again.  Lift 
ing  up  the  head,  which  she  gazed  upon  with  vast 
delight,  she  said  he  need  only  have  brought  the  scalp. 
Cutting  off  a  lock  of  the  hair  for  herself,  she  told 
him  he  might  now  return  with  the  head,  which 
would  be  evidence  of  an  achievement  that  would 
cause  his  own  people  to  respect  him. 

"  In  your  way  home,"  added  the  little  old  woman, 
"you  will  meet  with  but  one  difficulty.  Maunkah- 
keesh,  the  Spirit  of  the  Earth,  requires  an  offering 


32  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

or  sacrifice  from  all  of  her  sons  who  perform  extraor 
dinary  deeds.  As  you  walk  along  in  a  prairie  there 
will  be  an  earthquake;  the  earth  will  open  and  di 
vide  the  prairie  in  the  middle.  Take  this  partridge 
and  throw  it  into  the  opening,  and  instantly  spring 
over  it." 

With  many  thanks  to  the  little  old  witch,  who 
had  so  faithfully  befriended  him,  Strong  Desire  took 
leave  of  her,  and  having,  by  the  course  pointed  out, 
safely  passed  the  earthquake,  he  arrived  near  his  own 
village.  He  secretly  hid  his  precious  trophy. 

On  entering  the  village,  he  found  that  his  parents 
had  returned  from  the  place  of  their  spring  encamp 
ment  by  the  wood-side,  and  that  they  were  in  heavy 
sorrowing  for  their  son,  whom  they  supposed  to  be 
lost.  One  and  another  of  the  young  men  had  pre 
sented  themselves  to  the  disconsolate  parents,  and 
said,  "  Look  up,  I  am  your  son  ;"  but  when  they 
looked  up,  they  beheld  not  the  familiar  face  of 
Strong  Desire. 

Having  been  often  deceived  in  this  manner,  when 
their  own  son  in  truth  presented  himself  they  sat 
with  their  heads  down,  and  with  their  eyes  nearly 
blinded  with  weeping.  It  was  some  time 'before  they 
could  be  prevailed  upon  to  bestow  a  glance  upon 
him.  It  was  still  longer  before  they  could  recognize 
him  as  their  son  who  had  refused  to  draw  water 
from  1he  river,  at  night,  for  fear,  for  his  countenance 


THE    KED    SORCERER.  33 

was  no  longer  that  of  a  timid  stripling;  it  was  that 
of  a  man  who  has  seen  and  done  great  things,  and 
who  has  the  heart  to  do  greater  still. 

When  he  recounted  his  adventures  they  believed 
him  mad.  The  young  men  laughed  at  him — him, 
Strong  Desire — who  feared  to  walk  to  the  river  at 
night-time. 

He  left   the   lodge,   and   ere   their  laughter  had 

ceased,  returned  with   his   trophy.     He  held   aloft 

« 

the  head  of  the  Ked  Sorcerer,  with  the  great  ghastly 
leer  which  lighted  it  up  before  his  last  sleep,  at  pros 
pect  of  a  thousand  future  murders,  fresh  upon  it. 
It  was  easily  recognized,  and  the  young  men  who 
had  scoffed  at  Strong  Desire  shrunk  into  the  cor 
ners  out  of  sight.  Strong  Desire  had  conquered 
the  terrible  Ked  Head!  All  doubts  of  the  truth  of 
his  adventures  were  dispelled. 

He  was  greeted  with  joy,  and  placed  among  the 
first  warriors  of  the  nation.  He  finally  became  a 
chief,  and  his  family  were  ever  after  respected  and 
esteemed. 

2* 


IV. 

THE  WONDERFUL  EXPLOITS  OF  GRASSHOPPER. 

A  MAN,  of  small  stature,  found  himself  standing 
alone  on  a  prairie.      He  thought   to  himself, 
"  How  came  I  here  ?     Are  there  no  "beings  on  this 
earth  but  myself  ?      I  must  travel  and  see.     I  must 
walk  till  I  find  the  abodes  of  men." 

So  soon  as  his  mind  was  made  up,  he  set  out,  he 
knew  not  whither,  in  search  of  habitations.  He  was 
a  resolute  little  fellow,  and  no  difficulties  could  turn 
him  from  his  purpose  :  neither  prairies,  rivers,  woods 
nor  storms,  had  the  effect  to  daunt  his  courage  or 
turn  him  back.  After  traveling  a  long  time,  he 
came  to  a  wood,  in  which  he  saw  decayed  stumps  of 
trees,  as  if  they  had  been  cut  in  ancient  times,  but  no 
other  trace  of  men.  Pursuing  his  journey,  he  found 
more  recent  marks  of  the  same  kind  ;  after  this,  he 
came  upon  fresh  traces  of  human  beings  ;  first  their 
footsteps,  and  then  the  wood  they  had  felled,  lying  in 
heaps.  Pushing  on,  ho  emerged  toward  dusk  from 


EXPLOITS    OF    GKASSHOPPER.  35 

the  forest,  and  beheld  at  a  distance  a  large  village  of 
high  lodges  standing  on  rising  ground. 

"  I  am  tired  of  this  dog- trot/'  he  said  to  himself. 
"  I  will  arrive  there  on  a  run." 

He  started  off  with  all  his  speed.  On  coming  to 
the  first  lodge,  without  any  especial  exertion,  he 
jumped  over  it,  and  found  himself  standing  by  the 
door  on  the  other  side.  Those  within  saw  something 
pass  over  the  owning  in  the  roof ;  they  thought  from 
the  shadow  it  cast  that  it  must  have  been  some  huge 
bird — and  then  they  heard  a*  thump  upon  the  ground. 
"  What  is  that  ?"  they  all  said  and  several  ran  out 
to  see. 

They  invited  him  in,  and  he  found  himself  in  com 
pany  with  an  old  chief  and  several  men  who  were 
seated  in  the  lodge.  Meat  was  set  before  him  ;  aftei 
which  the  old  chief  asked  him  whither  he  was  going, 
and  what  was  his  name.  He  answered  that  he  was 
in  search  of  adventures,  and  that  his  name  was 
"  Grasshopper." 

They  all  opened  their  eyes  upon  the  stranger  with 
a  broad  stare. 

"  Grasshopper  !"  whispered  one  to  another  ;  and  a 
general  titter  went  round. 

They  invited  him  to  stay  with  them,  which  he  was 
inclined  to  do  ;  for  it  was  a  pleasant  village,  but  so 
small  as  to  constantly  embarrass  Grasshopper.  He 
was  in  perpetual  trouble  ;  whenever  he  shook  hands 


36  THE    INDIAN    FAIKY    BOOK. 

with  a  stranger,  to  whom  he  might  be  introduced, 
such  was  the  abundance  of  his  strength,  without 

O         J 

meaning  it,  he  wrung  his  arm  off  at  the  shoulder. 
Once  or  twice,  in  mere  sport,  he  cuffed  the  boys, 
about  the  lodge,  by  the  side  of  the  head,  and  they 
flew  out  of  sight  as  though  they  had  been  shot  from 
a  bow  ;  nor  could  they  ever  be  found  again,  though 
they  were  searched  for  in  all  the  country  round,  far 
and  wide.  If  Grasshopper  proposed.'  to  himself  a 
short  stroll  in  the  morning,  he  was  at  once  miles 
out  of  town.  When  he  entered  a  lodge,  if  he  hap 
pened  for  a  moment  to  forget  himself,  he  walked 
straight  through  the  leathern,  or  wooden,  or  earthen 
walls,  as  if  he  had  been  merely  passing  through  a 
bush.  At  his  meals  he  broke  in  pieces  all  the 
dishes,  set  them  down  as  lightly  as  he  would  ;  and 
putting  a  leg  out  of  bed  when  he  rose,  it  was  a 
common  thing  for  him  to  push  off  the  top  of  the 
lodge. 

He  wanted  more  elbow-room  ;  and  after  a  short 
stay,  in  which,  by  the  accidentally  letting  go  of  his 
strength,  he  had  nearly  laid  waste  the  whole  place, 
and  filled  it  with  demolished  lodges  and  broken  pot 
tery,  and  one-armed  men,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go 
further,  taking  with  him  a  young  man  who  had 
formed  a  strong  attachment  for  him,  and  who  might 
serve  him  as  his  pipe-bearer  ;  for  Grasshopper  was  a 
huge  smoker,  and  vast  clouds  followed  him  wherever 


EXPLOITS    OF    GBASSHOPPEK.  37 

he  went  ;  so  that  people  could  say,  "  Grasshopper  is 
coming  \"  by  the  mighty  smoke  he  raised. 

They  set  out  together,  and  when  his  companion 
was  fatigued  with  walking,  Grasshopper  would  put 
him  forward  on  his  journey  a  mile  or  two  by  giving 
him  a  cast  in  the  air,  and  lighting  him  in  a  soft  place 
among  the  trees,  or  in  a  cool  spot  in  a  water-pond, 
among  the  sedges  and  water-lilies.  At  other  times 
he  would  lighten  the  way  by  showing  off  a  few  tricks, 
such  as  leaping  over  trees,  and  turning  round  on  one 
leg  till  he  made  the  dust  fly  ;  at  which  the  pipe- 
bearer  was  mightily  pleased,  although  it  sometimes 
happened  that  the  character  of  these  gambols  fright 
ened  him.  For  Grasshopper  would,  without  the  least 
hint  of  such  an  intention,  jump  into  the  air  far 
ahead,  and  it  would  cost  the  little  pipe-bearer  half  a 
day's  hard  travel  to  come  up  with  him  ;  and  then 
the  dust  Grasshopper  raised  was  often  so  thick  and 
heavy  as  to  completely  bury  the  poor  little  pipe- 
bearer,  and  compel  Grasshopper  to  dig  diligently  and 
with  might  and  main  to  get  him  out  alive. 

One  day  they  came  to  a  very  large  village,  where 
they  were  well  received.  After  staying  in  it 
some  time  (in  the  course  of  which  Grasshopper, 
in  a  fit  of  abstraction,  walked  straight  through  the 
sides  of  three  lodges  without  stopping  to  look  for 
the  door),  they  were  informed  of  a  number  of  wicked 
spirits,  who  lived  at  a  distance,  and  who  made  it  a 


58  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY     BOOK. 

practice  to  kill  all  who  came  to  their  lodge.  At 
tempts  had  been  made  to  destroy  them,  but  they 
had  always  proved  more  than  a  match  for  such  as 
iiad  come  out  against  them. 

Grasshopper  determined  to  pay  them  a  visit,  al 
though  he  was  strongly  advised  not  to  do  so.  The 
chief  of  the  village  warned  him  of  the  great  danger 
he  would  incur,  but  finding  Grasshopper  resolved, 
he  said: 

"  Well,  if  you  will  go,  being  my  guest,  I  will  send 
twenty  warriors  to  serve  you." 

Grasshopper  thanked  him  for  the  offer,  although 
he  suggested  that  he  thought  he  could  get  along 
without  them,  at  which  the  little  pipe-bearer 
grinned,  for  his  master  had  never  shown  in  that  vil 
lage  what  he  could  do,  and  the  chief  thought  that 
Grasshopper,  being  little  himself,  would  be  likely  to 
need  twenty  warriors,  at  the  least,  to  encounter  the 
wicked  spirits  with  any  chance  of  success.  Twenty 
young  men  made  their  appearance.  They  set  for 
ward,  and  after  about  a  day's  journey  they  descried 
the  lodge  of  the  Manitoes. 

Grasshopper  placed  his  friend,  the  pipe-bearer, 
and  the  warriors,  near  enough  to  see  all  that  passed, 
while  he  went  alone  to  the  lodge. 

As  he  entered,  Grasshopper  saw  five  horrid-look 
ing  Manitoes  in  the  act  of  eating.  It  was  the 
father  and  his  four  sons.  They  were  really  hideous 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPEK.  39 

to  look  upon.  Their  eyes  were  swimming  low  in 
their  heads,  and  they  glared  about  as  if  they  were 
half  starved.  They  offered  Grasshopper  something 
to  eat,  which  he  pcfctely  refused,  for  he  had  a 
strong  suspicion  that  it  was  the  thigh-bone  of  a  man. 

"  What  have  you  come  for?"  said  the  old  one. 

"  Nothing/'  answered  Grasshopper ;  "  where  is 
your  uncle?" 

They  all  stared  at  him,  and  answered: 

"  We  ate  him,  yesterday.     What  do  you  want?" 

"  Nothing,"  s"aid  Grasshopper  ;  "  where  is  your 
grandfather?' 

They  all  answered,  wiln  another  broad  stare: 

"  We  ate  him  a  week  ago.  Do  you  not  wish  to 
wrestle?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Grasshopper,  "I  don't  mind  if  1 
do  take  a  turn;  but  you  must  be  easy  with  me,  for 
you  see  I  am  very  little." 

Pipe-bearer,  who  stood  near  enough  to  overhear 
the  conversation,  grinned  from  ear  to  ear  when  he 
caught  this  remark.  The  Manitoes  answered: 

"  Oh  yes,  we  will  be  easy  with  you." 

And  as  they  said  this  they  looked  at  each  other, 
and  rolled  their  eyes  about  in  a  dreadful  manner. 
A  hideous  smile  came  over  their  faces  as  they  whis 
pered  among  themselves  : 

"  It 's  a  pity  he 's  so  thin.  You  go,"  they  said  to 
the  eldest  brother. 


*   40  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

The  two  got  ready — the  Manito  and  Grasshopper 
— and  they  were  soon  clinched  in  each  other's  arms 
for  a  deadly  throw.  Grasshopper  knew  their  object 
— his  death;  they  wanted  a  taste  of  his  delicate 
little  body,  and  he  was  determined  they  should 
have  it,  perhaps  in  a  different  sense  from  that  they 
intended. 

"Haw!  haw!"  they  cried,  and  soon  the  dust  and 
dry  leaves  flew  about  as  if  driven  by  a  strong  wind. 
The  Manito  was  strong,  but  Grasshopper  thought  he 
could  master  him;  and  all  at  once  giving  him  a  sly 
trip,  as  the  wicked  spirit  was  trying  to  finish  his 
breakfast  with  a  piece  out  of  his  shoulder,  he  sent 
the  Manito  head-foremost  against  a  stone;  and,  call 
ing  aloud  to  the  three  others,  he  bade  them  come  and 
take  the  body  away. 

The  brothers  now  stepped  forth  in  quick  succession, 
but  Grasshopper  having  got  his  blood  up,  and  lim 
bered  himself  by  exercise,  soon  dispatched  the  three 
— sending  one  this  way,  another  that,  and  the  third 
straight  up  into  the  air,  so  high  that  he  never  came 
down  again. 

It  was  time  for  the  old  Manito  to  be  frightened, 
and  dreadfully  frightened  he  got,  and  ran  for  his 
life,  which  was  the  very  worst  thing  he  could  have 
done;  for  Grasshopper,  of  all  his  gifts  of  strength, 
was  most  noted  for  his  speed  of  foot.  The  old  Man 
ito  set  off,  and  for  mere  sport's  sake,  Grasshopper 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPER.  41 

pursued  him.  Sometimes  he  was  before  the  wicked 
old  spirit,  sometimes  he  was  flying  over  his  head, 
and  then  he  would  keep  along  at  a  steady  trot  just 
at  his  heels,  till  he  had  blown  all  the  breath  out  of 
the  old  knave's  body. 

Meantime  his  friend,  the  pipe-bearer,  and  the 
twenty  young  warriors,  cried  out: 

"  Ha,  ha,  ah!  ha,  ha,  ah!  Grasshopper  is  driving 
him  before  him!" 

The  Manito  only  turned  his  head  now  and  then  to 
look  back.  At  length,  when  he  was  tired  of  the 
sport,  to  be  rid  of  him,  Grasshopper,  with  a  gentle 
application  of  his  foot,  sent  the  wicked  old  Manito 
whirling  away  through  the  air,  in  which  he  made  a 
great  number  of  the  most  curious  turn-overs  in  the 
world,  till  he  came  to  alight,  when  it  so  happened 
that  he  fell  astride  of  an  old  bull-buffalo,  grazing  in 
a  distant  pasture,  who  straightway  set  off  with  him* 
at  a  long  gallop,  and  the  old  Manito  has  not  been 
heard  of  to  this  day. 

The  warriors  and  the  pipe-bearer  and  Grasshopper 
set  to  work  and  burned  down  the  lodge  of  the  wicked 
spirits,  and  then  when  they  came  to  look  about,  they 
saw  that  the  ground  was  strewn  on  all  sides  with 
human  bones  bleaching  in  the  sun  ;  these  were  the 
unhappy  victims  of  the  Manitoes.  Grasshopper  then 
took  three  arrows  from  his  girdle,  and  after  having 
performed  a  ceremonj  to  the  Great  Spirit,  he  shot 


42  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

one  into  the  air,  crying,  "  You  are  lying  down  ;  rise 
up,  or  you  will  be  hit  1" 

The  bones  all  moved  to  one  place.  He  shot  the 
second  arrow,  repeating  the  same  words,  when  each 
bone  drew  toward  its  fellow-bone  ;  the  third  arrow 
brought  forth  to  life  the  whole  multitude  of  people 
who  had  been  killed  by  the  Manitoes.  Grasshopper 
conducted  the  crowd  to  the  chief  of  the  village,  who 
had  proved  his  friend,  and  gave  them  into  his  hands. 
The  chief  was  there  with  his  counselors,  to  whom  he 
spoke  apart. 

•  «  Who  is  more  worthy,"  said  the  chief  to  Grass 
hopper,  "to  rule  than  you.  You  alone  can  defend 
them." 

Grasshopper  thanked  him,  and  told  him  that  he 
was  in  search  of  more  adventures.  "  I  have  done 
some  things,"  said  little  Grasshopper,  rather  boast- 
•f  ully,  "  and  I  think  I  can  do  some  more." 

The  chief  still  urged  him,  but  he  was  eager  to  go, 
and  naming  pipe-bearer  to  tarry  and  take  his  place, 
he  set  out  again  on  his  travels,  promising  that  he 
would  some  time  or  other  come  back  and  see  them. 

"  Ho  I  ho  !  ho  !"  they  all  cried.  "  Come  back 
again  and  see  us  !"  He  renewed  his  promise  that  he 
would  ;  and  then  set  out  alone. 

After  traveling  some  time  he  came  to  a  great  lake, 
and  on  looking  about  he  discovered  a  very  large  otter 
on  an  island.  He  thought  to  himself,  "  His  skin  will 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPER.  43 

make  me  a  fine  pouch."  And  he  immediately  drew 
up  at  long  shots,  and  drove  an  arrow  into  his  side. 
He  waded  into  the  lake,  and  with  some  difficulty 
dragged  him  ashore,  and  up  a  hill  overlooking  the 
lake. 

As  soon  as  Grasshopper  got  the  otter  into  the  sun 
shine  where,  it  was  warm,  he  skinned  him,  and  threw 
the  carcass  some  distance  off,  thinking  the  war-eagle 
would  come,  and  that  he  should  have  a  chance  to 
secure  his  feathers  as  ornaments  for  the  head  ;  for 
Grasshopper  hegan  to  be  proud,  and  was  disposed  to 
display  himself. 

He  soon  Jieard  a  rushing  noise  as  of  a  loud  wind, 
but 'could  see  nothing.  Presently  a  large  eagle  drop 
ped,  as  if  from  the  air,  upon  the  otter's  carcass. 
Grasshopper  drew  his  bow,  and  the  arrow  passed 
through  under  both  of  his  wings.  The  bird  made  a 
convulsive  flight  upward,  with  such  force  that  the 
cumbrous  body  was  borne  up  several  feet  from  the 
ground  ;  but  with  its  claws  deeply  fixed,  the  heavy 
otter  brought  the  eagle  back  to  the  earth.  Grass 
hopper  possessed  himself  of  a  handful  of  the  prime 
feathers,  crowned  his  head  with  the  trophy,  and  set 
off  in  high  spirits  on  the  look  out  for  something  new. 

After  walking  awhile,  he  came  to  a  body  of  water 
which  flooded  the  trees  on  its  banks — it  was  a 
lake  made  by  beavers.  Taking  his  station  on  the 
raised  dam  where  *he  stream  escaped,  he  watched  to 


44  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

see  whether  any  of  the  beavers  would  show  them 
selves.  A  head  presently  peeped  out  of  the  water  to 
see  who  it  was  that  disturbed  them. 

"  My  friend ,"  said  Grasshopper,  in  his  most  per 
suasive  manner,  "  could  you  not  oblige  me  by  turn 
ing  me  into  a  beaver  like  yourself.  Nothing  would 
please  me  so  much  as  to  make  your  acquaintance,  I 
can  assure  you  ;"  for  Grasshopper  was  curious  to 
know  how  these  watery  creatures  lived,  and  what 
kind  of  notions  they  had. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  the  beaver,  who  was  ra 
ther  short-nosed  and  surly.  "  I  will  go  and  ask  the 
others.  Meanwhile  stay  where  you  are,  if  you 
please." 

"  To  be  sure,"  answered  Grasshopper,  stealing 
down  the  bank  several  paces  as  soon  as  the  beaver's 
back  was  turned. 

Presently  there  was  a  great  splashing  of  the  water, 
and  all  the  beavers  showed  their  heads,  and  looked 
warily  to  where  he  stood,  to  see  if  he  was  armed ; 
but  he  had  knowingly  left  his  bow  and  arrows  in  a 
hollow  tree  at  a  short  distance. 

After  a  long  conversation,  which  they  conducted 
in  a  whisper  so  that  Grasshopper  could  not  catch  a 
word,  strain  his  ears  as  he  would,  they  all  advanced 
in  a  body  toward  the  spot  where  he  stood  ;  the  chief 
approaching  the  nearest,  and  lifting  his  head  highest 
out  of  the  water. 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPER.  45 

"  Can  you  not,"  said  Grasshopper,  noticing  that 
they  waited  for  him  to  speak  first,  a  turn  me  into  a 
beaver  ?  I  wish -to  live  among  you." 

"  Yes,"  answered  their  chief  ;  "  lie  down."  And 
Grasshopper  in  a  moment  found  himself  a  heaver, 
and  was  gliding  into  the  water,  when  a  thought 
seemed  to  strike  him,  and  he  paused  at  the  edge  of 
the  lake.  "  I  am  very  small,"  he  said,  to  the  beaver, 
in  a  sorrowful  tone.  "You  must  make  me  large," 
he  said  ;  for  Grasshopper  was  terribly  ambitious,  and 
wanted  always  to  be  the  first  person  in  every  com 
pany.  "  Larger  than  any  of  you  ;  in  my  present 
size  it's  hardly  worth  my  while  to  go  into  the 
water." 

"  Yes,  yes  !"  said  they.  "  By  and  by,  when  we 
gel?  into  the  lodge  it  shall  be  done." 

They  all  dived  into  the  lake,  and  in  passing  great 
heaps  of  limbs  and  logs  at  the  bottom,  he  asked  the 
use  of  them  ;  they  answered,  "  It  is  for  our  winter's 
provisions." 

When  they  all  got.  into  tho  lodge  their  number 
was  about  one  hundred.  The  lodge  was  large  and 
warm. 

"  Now  we  will  make  you  large,"  said  they.  "  Will 
that  do  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  ;  for  he  found  that  he  was 
ten  times  the  size  of  the  largest. 

"  You  need  not  go  out,"   said  the  others  ;   "  we 


46  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

will  bring  you  food  into  the  lodge,  and  you  will  be 
our  chief/' 

"  Very  well/'  Grasshopper  answered.  He  thought, 
"I  will  stay  here  and  grow  fat  at  their  expense/* 
But,  soon  after,  one  ran  into  the  lodge,  out  of  breath? 
crying  out,  "  We  are  visited  by  the  Indians  !" 

All  huddled  together  in  great  fear.  The  water  be 
gan  to  lower,  for  the  hunters  had  broken  down  the 
darn,  and  they  soon  heard  them  on  the  roof  of  the 
lodge,  breaking  it  up.  Out  jumped  all  the  beavers 
into  the  water,  and  so  escaped. 

Grasshopper  tried  to  follow  them  ;  but,  unfortu 
nately,  to  gratify  his  ambition,  they  had  made  him 
so  large  that  he  could  not  creep  out  at  the  hole.  He 
tried  to  call  them  back,  but  either  they  did  not  hear 
or  would  not  attend  to  him  ;  he  worried  himself*so 
much  in  searching  for  a  door  to  let  him  out,  that  he 
looked  like  a  great  bladder,  swollen  and  blistering  in 
the  sun,  and  the  sweat  stood  oirt  upon  his  forehead 
in  knobs  aud  huge  bubbles. 

Although  he  heard  and  understood  every  word  that 
the  hunters  spoke — and  some  of  their  expressions 
suggested  terrible  ideas — he  could  not  turn  himself 
back  into  a  man.  He  had  chosen  to  be  a  beaver,  and 
a  beaver  he  must  be.  One  of  the  hunters,  a  prying 
little  man,  with  a  single  lock  dangling  over  one  eye — 
this  inquisitive  little  fellow  put  his  head  in  at  the 
top  of  the  lodge.  "  Ty-au  !"  cried  he.  "  Tut  iy-au  / 


EXPLOITS    OF    GKASSHOPPER.  47 

Me-shau-mik — king  of  beavers  is  in."  Whereupon 
the  whole  crowd  of  hunters  began  upon  him  with 
their  clubs,  and  knocked  his  scull  about  until  it  was 
no  harder  than  a  morass  in  the  middle  of  summer. 
Grasshopper  thought  as  well  as  ever  he  did.  although 
he  was  a  beaver  ;  and  he  felt  that  he  was  in  a  rather 
foolish  scrape,  inhabiting  the  carcass  of  a  beaver. 

Presently  seven  or  eight  of  the  hunters  hoisted  his 
body  upon  long  poles,  and  marched  away  home  with 
him.  As  they  went,  he  reflected  in  this  manner : 
"  What  will  become  of  me  ?  My  ghost  or  shadow 
will  not  die  after  they  get  me  to  their  lodges."  • 

Invitations  were  immediately  sent  out  for  a  grand 
feast  ;  but  as  soon  as  his  body  got  cold,  his  soul 
being  uncomfortable  in  a  house  without  heat,  flew 
off. 

Having  reassumed  his  mortal  shape,  Grasshopper 
found  himself  standing  near  a  prairie.  After  walk 
ing  a  distance,  he  saw  a  herd  of  elk  feeding.  He 
admired  their  apparent  ease  and  enjoyment  of  life, 
and  thought  there  could  be  nothing  more  pleas 
ant  than  the  liberty  of  running  about  and  feeding  on 
the  prairies.  He  had  been  a  water  animal  and  now  he 
wished  to  become  a  land  animal,  to  learn  what  passed 
in  an  elk's  head  as  he  roved  about.  He  asked  them 
if  they  could  not  turn  him  into  one  of  themselves. 

"  Yes,"  they  answered,  after  a  pause.  "  Get  do^n 
on  your  hands  and  feet." 


48  THE     INDIAN      FAIRY      BOOK. 

He  obeyed  their  directions,  and  forthwith  found 
himself  to  be  an  elk. 

"I  want  big  horns,  big  feet,"  said  he;  "I  wish  to 
be  very  large;"  for  all  the  conceit  and  vain-glory  had 
not  been  knocked  out  of  Grasshopper,  even  by  the 
sturdy  thwacks  of  the  hunters'  clubs. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  they  answered.  "  There,"  exerting 
their  power,  "  are  you  big  enough?" 

"  That  will  do,"  he  replied;  for,  looking  into  a 
lake  hard  by,  Grasshopper  saw  that  he  was  very 
large.  They  spent  their  time  in  grazing  and  run 
ning  to  and  fro;  but  what  astonished  Grasshopper, 
although  he  often  lifted  up  his  head  and  directed  his 
eyes  that  way,  he  could  never  see  the  stars,  which  he 
had  so  admired  as  a  human  being. 

Being  rather  cold,  one  day,  Grasshopper  went  into 
a  thick  wood  for  shelter,  whither  he  was  followed  by 
most  of  the  herd.  They  had  not  been  long  there 
when  some  elks  from  behind  passed  the  others  like  a 
strong  wind,  calling  out: 

"The  hunters  are  after  us!" 

All  took  the  alarm,  and  off  they  ran,  Grasshopper 
with  the  rest. 

"  Keep  out  on  the  plains,"  they  said.  But  it  was 
too  late  to  profit  by  this  advice,  for  they  had  already 
got  entangled  in  the  thick  woods.  Grasshopper  soon 
scented  the  hunters,  who  were  closely  following  his 
trail  for  they  had  left  all  the  others  and  were 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPER.  49 

Lnaking  after  him  in  full  cry.  He  jumped  furiously, 
dashed  through  the  underwood,  and  broke  down 
whole  groves  of  saplings  in  his  flight.  But  this  only 
made  it  the  harder  for  him  to  get  on,  such  a  huge 
and  lusty  elk  was  he  by  his  own  request. 

Presently,  as  he  dashed  past  an  open  space,  he 
felt  an  arrow  in  his  side.  They  could  not  well 
miss  it,  he  presented  so  wide  a  jnark  to  the  shot. 
He  bounded  over  trees  under  the  "smart,  but  the 
shafts  clattered  thicker  and  thicker  at  his  ribs, 
and  at  last  one  entered  his  heart.  He  fell  to  the 
ground,  and  heard  the  whoop  of  triumph  sounded  by 
the  hunters.  On  coming  up,  they  looked  on  the  (^r- 
cass  with  astonishment,  and  with  their  hands  up  to 
their  mouths,  exclaimed:  "Ty-au!  ty-au!" 

There  were  about  sixty  in  the  party,  who  had 
come  out  on  a  special  hunt,  as  one  of  their  number 
had,  the  day  before,  observed  his  large  tracks  on  the 
plains.  When  they  had  skinned  him  his  flesh  grew 
cold,  and  his  spirit  took  its  flight  from  the  dead 
body,  and  Grasshopper  found  himself  in  human 
shape,  with  a  bow  and  arrows. 

But  his  passion  for  adventure  was  not  yet  cooled; 
for  on  coming  to  a  large  lake  with  a  sandy  beach, 
he  saw  a  large  flock  of  brant,  and  speaking  to  them 
in  the  bralit  language,  he  requested  them  to  make  a 
brant  of  him. 

3 


50  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"  Yes/'  they  replied,  at  once;  for  the  brant  is  a 
bird  of  a  very  obliging  disposition. 

"But  I  want  to  be  very  large/'  he  said.  There 
was  no  end  to  the  ambition  of  little  Grasshopper. 

"  Very  well,"  they  answered;  and  he  soon  found 
himself  a  large  brant,  all  the  others  standing  gazing 
in  astonishment  at  his  great  size. 

"  You  must  fly  a£  leader/'  they  said. 

"  No/'  answered  Grasshopper;  "  I  will  fly  behind." 

"Very  well/'  rejoined  the  brant;  "  one  thing  more 
we  have  to  say  to  you,  brother  Grasshopper "  (for  he 
had  told  them  his  name).  "  You  must  be  careful,  in 
flying,  not  to  look  down,  for  something  may  happen 
to  you." 

"Well,  it  is  so,"  said  he;  and  soon  the  flock  rose 
up  into  the  air,  for  they  were  bound  north.  They 
flew  very  fast — he  behind.  One  day,  while-  going 
with  a  strong  wind,  and  as  swift  as  their  wings  could 
flap,  as  they  passed  over  a  large  village  the  Indians 
raised  a  great  shout  on  seeing  them,  particularly  on 
Grasshopper's  account,  for  his  wings  were  broader 
than  two  large  mats.  The  village  people  made  such 
a  frightful  noise  that  he  forgot  what  had  been  told 
him  about  looking  down.  They  were  now  scudding 
along  as  swift  as  arrows;  and  as  soon  as  he  brought 
his  neck  in  and  stretched  it  down  to  look  at  the 
shouters,  his  huge  tail  was  caught  by  the  wind,  and 
over  and  over  he  was  blown.  He  tried  to  right  him- 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPEK.  51 

» 

self,  but  without  success,  for  he  had  no  sooner  got 
out  of  one  heavy  air-current  than  he  fell  into  an 
other,  which  treated  him  even  more  rudely  than  that 
he  had  escaped  from.  Down,  down  he  went,  making 
more  turns  than  he  wished  for,  from  a  height  of  sev 
eral  miles. 

The  first  moment  he  had  to  look  about  him,  Grass 
hopper,  in  the  shape  of  a  big  brant,  was  aware  that 
he  was  jammed  into  a  large  hollow  tree.  To  get 
backward  or  forward  was  out  of  the  question,  and 
there,  in  spite  of  himself,  was  Grasshopper  forced 
to  tarry  till  his  brant  life  was  ended  by  starvation, 
when,  his  spirit  being  at  liberty,  he  was  once  more 
a  human  being. 

As  he  journeyed  on  in  search  of  further  adven 
tures,  Grasshopper  came  to  a  lodge  in  which  were 
two  old  men,  with  heads  white  from  extreme  age. 

7  O 

They  were  very  fine  old  men  to  look  at.  There  was 
such  sweetness  and  innocence  in  their  features  that 
Grasshopper  would  have  enjoyed  himself  very  much 
at  their  lodge,  if  he  had  had  no  other  entertainment 
than  such  as  the  gazing  upon  the  serene  and  happy 
faces  of  the  two  innocent  old  men  with  heads  white 
from  extreme  age  afforded. 

They  treated  him  well,  and  he  made  known  to 
them  that  he  was  going  back  to  his  village,  his 
friends  and  people,  whereupon  the  two  white-headed 
old  men  very  heartily  wished  him  a  good  journey 


I 
52  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

and  abundance  of  comfort  in  seeing  his  friends 
once  more.  They  even  arose,  old  and  infirm  as 
they  were,  and  tottering  with  exceeding  difficulty  to 
the  door,  were  at  great  pains  to  point  out  to  him 
the  exact  course  he  should  take;  and  they  called  his 
attention  to  the  circumstance  that  it  was  much 
shorter  and  more  direct  than  he  would  have  taken 
himself.  Ah!  what  merry  deceivers  were  these  two 
old  men  with  very  white  heads. 

Grasshopper,  with  blessings  showered  on  him  un 
til  he  was  fairly  out  of  sight,  set  forth  with  good 
heart.  He  thought  he  heard  loud  laughter  resound 
ing  after  him  in  the  direction  of  the  lodge  of  the 
two  old  men;  but  it  could  not  have  been  the  two  old 
men,  for  they  were,  certainly,  too  old  to  laugh. 

He  walked  briskly  all  day,  and  at  night  he  had 
the  satisfaction  oil  reaching  a  lodge  in  all  respects 
like  that  which  he  had  left  in  the  morning.  There 
were  two  fine  old  men,  and  his  treatment  was  in 
every  particular  the  same,  even  down  to  the  parting 
blessing  and  the  laughter  that  followed  him  as  he 
went  his  way. 

After  walking  the  third  day,  and  coming  to  a 
lodge  the  same  as  before,  he  was  satisfied  from  the 
bearings  of  the  course  he  had  taken  that  he  had  been 
journeying  in  a  circle,  and  by  a  notch  which  he  had 
cut  in  the  door-post  that  these  were  the  same  two 
old  men,  all  along;  and  that,  despite  their  innocent 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPER.  53 

faces  and  their  very  white  heads,  they  had  been  play 
ing  him  a  sorry  trick. 

"  Who  are  you/'  said  Grasshopper,  "  to  treat  me 
so?  Come  forth,  I  say." 

They  were  compelled  to  obey  his  summons,  lest, 
in  his  anger,  he  should  take  their  lives;  and  they 
appeared  on  the  outside  of  the  lodge. 

"  We  must  have  a  little  trial  of  speed,  now,"  said 
Grasshopper. 

"A  race?"  they  asked.  "We  are  very  old;  we 
can  not  run." 

"  We  will  see,"  said  Grasshopper;  whereupon  he 
set  them  out  upon  the  road,  and  then  he  gave  them 
a  gentle  push,  which  put  them  in  motion.  Then  he 
pushed  them  again — harder — harder — until  they  got 
under  fine  head-way,  when  he  gave  each  of  them  an 
astounding  shock  with  his  foot,  and  off  they  new  at 
a  great  rate,  round  and  round  the  course;  and  such 
was  the  magic  virtue  of  the  foot  of  Grasshopper, 
that  no  object  once  set  agoing  by  it  could  by  any  pos 
sibility  stop;  so  that,  for  aught  we  know  to  the  con 
trary,  the  two  innocent,  white-headed,  merry  old 
men,  are  trotting  with  all  their  might  and  main 
around  the  circle  in  which  they  beguiled  Grasshop 
per,  to  this  day. 

Continuing  his  journey,  Grasshopper,  although 
his  head  was  warm  and  buzzing  with  all  sorts  of 
schemes,  did  not  know  exactly  what  to  do  until  he 


54  THE    INDIAN    FAIKY    BOOK. 

came  to  a  big  lake.  He  mounted  a  high  hill  to  try 
and  see  to  the  other  side,  but  he  could  not.  He  then 
made  a  canoe,  and  sailed  forth.  The  water  was  very 
clear — a  transparent  blue — and  he  saw  that  it 
abounded  with  fish  of  a  rare  and  delicate  com 
plexion.  This  circumstance  inspired  him  with  a  wish 
to  return  to  his  village,  and  to  bring  his  people  to 
live  near  this  beautiful  lake. 

Toward  evening,  coming  to  a  woody  island,  he  en 
camped  and  ate  the  fish  he  had  speared,  and  they 
proved  to  be  as  comforting  to  the  stomach  as  they 
were  pleasing  to  the  eye.  The  next  day  Grasshop 
per  returned  to  the  main  land,  and  as  he  wandered 
along  the  shore  he  espied  at  a  distance  the  celebrat 
ed  giant,  Manabozho,  who  is  a  bitter  enemy  of 
Grasshopper,  and  loses  no  opportunity  to  stop  him 
on  his  journeyings  and  to  thwart  his  plans. 

At  first  it  occurred  to  Grasshopper  to  have  a  trial 
of  wits  with  the  giant,  but,  on  second  thoughts,  he 
said  to  himself,  "  I  am  in  a  hurry  now ;  I  will  see 
him  another  time." 

With  no  further  mischief  than  raising  a  great 
whirlwind  of  dust,  which  caused  Manabozho  to  rub 
his  eyes  severely,  Grasshopper  quietly  slipped  out  of 
the  way  ;  and  he  made  good  speed  withal,  for  in  much 
'less  time  than  you  could  count  half  the  stars  in  the 
eky  of  a  winter  night,  he  had  reached  home. 

His  return  was  welcomed  with  a  great  hubbub  of 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPER.  55 

feasting  and  songs  ;  and  he  had  scarcely  set  foot  in  the 
village  before  he  had  invitations  to  take  pot-luck  at 
different  lodges,  which  would  have  lasted  him  the 
rest  of  his  natural  life.  Pipe-hearer,  who  had  some 
time  before  given  up  the  cares  of  a  ruler,  and  fallen 
back  upon  his  native  place,  fairly  danced  with  joy  at 
the  sight  of  Grasshopper,  who,  not  to  be  outdone, 
dandled  him  affectionately  in  his  arms,  by  casting 
him  up  and  'down  in  the  air  half  a  mile  or  so,  till  lit 
tle  Pipe-bearer  had  no  breath  left  in  his  body  to  say 
that  he  was  happy  to  see  Grasshopper  home  again. 

Grasshopper  gave  the  village  folks  a  lively  account 
ef  his  adventures,  and  when  he  came  to  the  blue 
lake  and  the  abundant  fish,  he  dwelt  upon  their 
charms  with  such  effect  that  they  agreed,  with  one 
voice,  that  it  must  be  a,  glorious  place  to  live  in, 
and  if  he  would  show  them  the  way  they  would  shift 
camp  and  settle  there  at  once. 

He  not  only  showed  them  the  way,  but  bringing 
his  wonderful  strength  and  speed  of  foot  to  bear,  in 
less  than  half  a  day  he  had  transported  the  whole 
village,  with  its  children,  women,  tents,  and  imple 
ments  of  war,  to  the  new  water-side. 

Here,  for  a  time,  Grasshopper  appeared  to  be  con 
tent,  until  one  day  a  message  came  for  him  in  the 
shape  of  a  bear,  who  said  that  their  king  wished  to 
see  him  immediately  at  his  village.  Grasshopper 
was  ready  in  an  instant  ;  and  mounting  upon  the 


56  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

messenger's  back,  off  lie  ran.  Toward  evening  they 
climbed  a  high  mountain,  and  came  to  a  cave  where 
the  bear-king  lived.  He  was  a  very  large  person  ; 
and  puffing  with  fat  and  a  sense  of  his  own  impor 
tance,  he  made  Grasshopper  welcome  by  inviting  him 
in  to  his  lodge. 

As  soon  as  it  was  proper,  he  spoke,  and  said  that 
he  had  sent  for  him  on  hearing  that  he  was  the  chief 
who  was  moving  a  large  party  toward  his  hunting- 
grounds. 

"  You  must  know,"  said  the  bear-king  with  a  ter 
rible  growl,  "that  you  have  no  right  there,  and  I 
wish  you  would  leave  the  country  with  your  party, 
or  else  the  strongest  force  will  take  possession.  Take 
notice." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Grasshopper,  going  toward 
the  door,  for  he  suspected  that  the  king  of  the  bears 
was  preparing  to  give  him  a  hug.  "So  be  it." 

He  wished  to  gain  time,  and  to  consult  his  people  ; 
for  he  had  seen  as  he  came  along  that  the  bears  were 
gathering  in  great  force  on  the  side  of  the  mountain. 
He  also  made  known  to  the  bear-king  that  he  would 
go  back  that  night  that  his  people  might  be  put  in 
immediate  possession  of  his  royal  behest. 

The  bear-king  replied  that  Grasshopper  might  do 
as  he  pleased,  but  that  one  of  his  young  men  was  at 
his  command  ;  and,  jumping  nimbly  on  his  back, 
Grasshopper  rode  home. 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPER.  57 

He  assembled  the  people,  and  ordered  the  bear's 
head  off,  to  be  hung  outside  of  the  village,  that  the 
bear-spies,  who  were  lurking  in  the  neighborhood, 
might  see  it  and  carry  the  news  to  their  chief. 

The  next  morning,  by  break  of  day,  Grasshopper 
had  all  of  his  young  warriors  under  arms  and  ready 
for  a  fight.  About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  the 
bear  war-party  came  in  sight,  led  on  by  the  pursy 
king,  and  making  a  tremendous  noise.  They  ad 
vanced  on  their  hind-legs,  and  made  a  very  imposing 
display  of  their  teeth  and  eyeballs. 

The  bear-chief  himself  came  forward,  and  with  a 
majestic  waive  of  his  right  hand,  said  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  shed  the  blood  of  the  young  warriors  j  but 
that  if  Grasshopper,  who  appeared  to  be  the  head 
of  the  war-party,  consented,  they  two  would  have  a 
race,  and  the  winner  should  kill  the  losing  chief,  and 
all  his  young  men  should  be  servants  to  the  other. 

Grasshopper  agreed,  of  course — how  little  Pipe- 
bearer,  who  stood  by,  grinned  as  they  came  to 
terms  !— and  they  started  to  run  before  the  whole* 
company  of  warriors  who  stood  in  a  circle  looking  on. 

At  first  there  was  a  prospect  that  Grasshopper 
would  be  badly  beaten  ;  for  although  he  kept  crowd 
ing  the  great  fat  bear-king  till  the  sweat  trickled 
from  his  shaggy  ears,  he  never  seemed  to  be  able  to 
push  past  him.  By  and  by,  Grasshopper,  going  through 
a  number  of  the  most  extraordinary  maneuvers  in 


58  THE     INDIAN   FAIRY     BOOK. 

the  world,  raised  about  the  great  fat  bear-king  such 
eddies  and  whirlwinds  with  the  sand,  and  so  danced 
about,  before  and  after  him,  that  he  at  last  got  fairly 
bewildered,  and  cried  out  for  them  to  come  and  take 
him  off.  Out  of  sight  before  him  in  reaching  the 
goal,  Grasshopper  only  waited  for  the  bear-king  to 
come  up,  when  he  drove  an  arrow  straight  through 
him,  and  ordered  them  to  take  the  body  away  and 
make  it  ready  for.  supper ;  as  he  was  getting  hungry. 

He  then  directed  all  of  the  other  bears  to  fall  to 
and  help  prepare  the  feast ;  for  in  fulfillment  of  the 
agreement  they  had  become  servants.  With  many 
wry  faces  the  bears,  although  bound  to  act  becomingly 
in  then:  new  character,  according  to  the  forfeit,  served 
up  the  body  of  their  late  royal  master  ;  and  in  doing 
this  they  fell,  either  by  accident  or  design,  into  many 
curious  mistakes. 

When  the  feast  came  to  be  served  up,  and  they 
were  summoned  to  be  in  attendance,  one  of  them,  a 
sprightly  young  fellow  of  an  inquisitive  turn  of 
mind,  was  found  upon  the  roof  of  the  lodge,  with 
his  head  half  way  down  the  smoke-hole,  with  a  view 
to  learn  what  they  were  to  have  for  dinner.  Another, 
a  middle-aged  bear  with  very  long  arms,  who  was 
put  in  charge  of  the  children  in  the  character  of 
nurse,  squeezed  three  or  four  of  the  most  promising 
young  papooses  to  death,  while  the  mothers  were 
outside  to  look  after  the  preparations  ;  and  another, 


THE    BEAR   SERVANTS.     Page 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPER.  59 

when  he  should  have  been  waiting  at  the  back  of 
his  master,  had  climbed  a  shady  tree  and  was  in 
dulging  in  his  afternoon  nap.  And  when,  at  last, 
the  dinner  was  ready  to  be  served,  they  came  tum 
bling  in  with  the  dishes,  heels  over  head,  one  after 
the  other,  so  that  one  half  of  the  feast  was  spread 
upon  the  ground,  and  the  other  half  deposited  out 
of  doors,  on  the  other  side  of  the  lodge. 

After  a  while,  however,  by  strict  discipline,  and 
threatening  to  cut  off  their  provisions,  the  bear-serv 
ants  were  brought  into  tolerable  control. 

Yet  Grasshopper,  with  his  ever  restless  disposition, 
was  uneasy;  and,  having  done  so  many  wonderful 
things,  he  resolved  upon  a  strict  and  thorough  re 
form  in  all  the  affairs  of  the  village.  To  prevent  fu 
ture  difficulty,  he  determined  to  adopt  new  regula 
tions  between  the  bears  and  their  masters. 

With  this  view,  he  issued  an  edict  that  hencefor 
ward  the  bears  should  eat  at  the  first  table,  and  that 
the  Indians  were  to  wait  upon  them;  that  in  all  pub 
lic  processions  of  an  honorable  character  the  bears 
should  go  first;  and  that  when  any  fighting  was  to 
be  done,  the  Indians  should  have  the  privilege  re 
served  of  receiving  the  first  shots.  A  special  exemp 
tion  was  made  in  behalf  of  Grasshopper's  favorite  and 
confidential  adviser,  the  Pipe-bearer  (who  had  been 
very  busy  in  private,  recommending  the  new  order  of 
things),  who  was  to  be  allowed  to  sit  at  the  head  of 


60  THE     INDIAN      FAIRY     BOOK. 

the  feast,  and  to  stay  at  home  with  the  old  women 
in  the  event  of  "battle. 

Having  seen  his  orders  strictly  enforced,  and  the 
rights  of  the  bears  over  the  Indians  fairly  estab 
lished,  Grasshopper  fixed  his  mind  upon  further  ad 
ventures.  He  determined  to  go  abroad  for  a  time, 
and  having  an  old  score  to  settle  with  Manabozho, 
he  set  out  with  a  hope  of  soon  falling  in  with  that 
famous  giant.  Grasshopper  was  a  blood  relation  of 
Dais  Irnid,  or  He  of  the  Little  Shell,  and  had  heard 
of  what  had  passed  between  that  giant  and  his  kins 
man. 

After  wandering  a  long  time  he  came  to  the  lodge 
of  Manabozho,  who  was  absent.  He  thought  he 
must  play  him  a  trick;  and  so  he  turned  every  thing 
in  the  lodge  upside  down,  and  killed  his  birds,  of 
which  there  was  an  extraordinary  attendance,  for 
Manabozho  is  master  of  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and  this 
was  the  appointed  morning  for  them  to  call  and  pay 
their  court  to  him.  Among  the  number  was  a  raven, 
accounted  the  meanest  of  birds,  which  Grasshopper 
killed  and  hung  up  by  the  neck,  to  insult  him. 

He  then  went  on  till  he  came  to  a  very  high  point 
of  rocks  running  out  into  the  lake,  from  the  top  of 
which  he  could  see  the  country,  back  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach.  While  sitting  there,  Manabozho's 
mountain  chickens  flew  around  and  past  him  in  great 
numbers.  Out  of  mere  spite  to  their  master,  Grass- 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPER.  61 

hopper  shot  them  by  the  score,  for  his  arrows  were 
very  sure  and  the  birds  very  plenty,  and  he  amused 
himself  by  throwing  the  birds  down  the  rocks.  At 
length  a  wary  bird  cried  out: 

"  Grasshopper  is  killing  us;  go  and  tell  our  father/' 

Away  sped  a  delegation  of  the  birds  which  were 
the  quickest  of  wing,  and  Manabozho  soon  made  his 
appearance  on  the  plain  below.  Grasshopper,  who, 
when  he  is  in  the  wrong,  is  no  match  for  Manabozho, 
made  his  escape  on  the  other  side.  Manabozho,  who 
had  in  two  or  three  strides  reached  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  cried  out: 

"  You  are  a  rogue.  The  earth  is  not  so  large  but 
I  can  get  up  to  you." 

Off  ran  Grasshopper  and  Manabozho  after  him. 
The  race  was  sharp  ;  and  such  leaps  and  strides  as 
they -made  !  Over  hills  and  prairies,  with  all  his 
speed,  went  Grasshopper,  and  Manabozho  hard  upon 
him.  Grasshopper  had  some  mischievous  notions 
still  left  in  his  head  which  he  thought  might  befriend 
him.  He  knew  that  Manabozho  was  under  a  spell  to 
restore  whatever  he,  Grasshopper,  destroyed.  Forth 
with  he  stopped  and  climbed  a  large  pine-tree,  strip 
ped  off  its  beautiful  green  foliage,  threw  it  to  the 
winds,  <and  then  went  on. 

When  Manabozho  reached  the  spot,  the  tree  ad 
dressed  him  :  "  Great  chief/'  said  the  tree,  "  will  you 
give  my  life  again  ?  Grasshopper  has  killed  me." 


62  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"  Yes/'  replied  Manabozho,  who,  as  quickly  as  he 
could,  gathered  the  scattered  leaves  and  branches, 
renewed  its  beauty  with  his  breath,  and  se+  off. 
Although  Grasshopper  in  the  same  way  compelled 
Manabozho  to  lose  time  in  repairing  the  hemlock,  the 
sycamore,  cedar,  and  many  other  trees,  the  giant  did 
not  falter,  but  pushing  briskly  forward,  was  fast  over 
taking  him,  when  Grasshopper  happened  to  see  an 
elk.  And1  asking  him,  for  old  acquaintance'  sake,  to 
take  him  on  his  back,  the  elk  did  so,  and  for  some 
time  he  made  good  headway,  but  still  Manabozho  was 
in  sight. 

He  was  fast  gaining  upon  him,  when  Grasshopper 
threw  himself  off  the  elk's  back  ;  and  striking  a 
great  sandstone  rock  near  the  path,  he  broke  it  into 
pieces,  and  scattered  the  grains  in  a  thousand  direc 
tions  ;  for  this  was  nearly  his  last  hope  of  escape. 
Manabozho  was  so  close  upon  him  at  this  place  that 
he  had  almost  caught  him  ;  but  the  foundation  of 
the  rock  cried  out, 

"  Have  !  Ne-me-sho,  Grasshopper  has  spoiled  me. 
Will  you  not  restore  me  to  life  ?" 

"  Yes/'  replied  Manabozho.  He  re-established  the 
rock  in  all  its  strength. 

He  then  pushed  on  in  pursuit,  and  had  got  so 
near  to  Grasshopper  as  to  put  out  his  arm  to  seize 
him  ;  but  Grasshopper  dodged  him,  and,  as  his  last 
chance,  he  immediately  raised  such  a  dust  and  com- 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPEK.  63 

motion  by  whirlwinds,  as  made  the  trees  break  and 
the  sand  and  leaves  dance  in  the  air.  Again  and 
again  Manabozho  stretched  his  arm,  but  he  escaped 
him  at  every  turn,  and  kept  up  such  a  tumult  of 
dust  that  he  dashed  into  a  hollow  tree  which  had 
been  blown  down,  changed  himself  into  a  snake,  and 
crept  out  at  the  roots  just  in  time  to  save  his  life  j 
for  at  that  moment  Manabozho,  who  had  the  power 
of  lightning,  struck  it,  and  it  was  strewn  about  in 
little  pieces. 

Again  Grasshopper  was  in  human  shape,  and 
Manabozho  was  pressing  him  hard.  At  a  distance  he 
saw  a  very  high  bluff  of  rocks.jutting  out  into  a  lake, 
and  he  ran  for  the  foot  of  the  precipice  which  was 
abrupt  and  elevated.  As  he  came  near,  to  his  sur 
prise  and  great  relief,  the  Manito  of  the  rock 
opened  his  door  and  told  Grasshopper  to  come  in. 
The  door  was  no  sooner  closed  than  Manabozho 
knocked. 

"  Open  it  !"  he  cried,  with  a  loud  voice.  The 
Manito  was  afraid  of  him  ;  but  he  said  to  Grasshop 
per,  "  Since  I  have  taken  you  as  my  guest,  I  would 
sooner  die  with  you  than  open  the  door." 

"  Open  it !"  Manabozho  again  cried,  in  a  louder 
voice  than  before. 

The  Manito  kept  silent.  Manabozho,  however, 
made  no  attempt  to  open  it  by  force.  He  waited  a 
few  moments.  . 


64  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"  Very  well/'  he  said  ;  "I  give  you  till  morning  to 
live/' 

Grasshopper  trembled,  for  he  thought  his  last  houi 
had  come  ;  but  the  Manito  bade  him  to  be  of  good 
cheer. 

When  the  night  came  on  the  clouds  were  thick 
and  black,  and  as  they  were  torn  open  by  the 
lightning,  such  discharges  of  thunder  were  never 
heard  as  bellowed  forth.  The  clouds  advanced  slowly 
and  wrapped  the  earth  about  with  their  vast  shadows 
as  in  a  huge  cloak.  All  night  long  the  clouds  gath 
ered,  and  the  lightning  flashed,  and  the  thunder 
roared,  and  above  all  could  be  heard  Manabozho 
muttering  vengeance  upon  poor  little  Grasshopper. 

"  You  have  led  a  very  foolish  kind  of  life,  Grass 
hopper,"  said  his  friend  the  Manito. 

"  I  know  it — I  know  it  !"  Grasshopper  answered. 

"  You  had  great  gifts  of  strength  awarded  to  you/' 
said  the  Manito. 

"  I  am  aware  of  it,"  replied  Grasshopper. 

"  Instead  of  employing  it  for  useful  purposes,  and 
for  the  good  of  your  fellow-creatures,  you  have  done 
nothing  since  you  became  a  man  but  raise  whirl 
winds  on  the  highways,  leap  over  trees,  break  what 
ever  you  met  in  pieces,  and  perform  a  thousand*  idle 
pranks." 

Grasshopper,  with  great  penitence,  confessed  that 
his  friend  the  Manito  spoke  but  too  truly  ;  and  at 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPER.  65 

last  his  entertainer,  with  a  still  more  serious  manner, 
said : 

"  Grasshopper,  you  still  have  your  gift  of  strength, 
Dedicate  it  to  the  good  of  mankind.  Lay  all  of 
these  wanton  and  vain-glorious  notions  out  of  your 
head.  In  a  word,  be  as  good  as  you  are  strong." 

"  I  will/'  answered  Grasshopper.  "  My  heart  is 
changed;  I  see  the  error  of  my  ways." 

Black  and  stormy  as  it  had  been  all  night,  when 
morning  came  the  sun  was  shining,  the  air  was  soft 
and  sweet  as  the  summer  down  and  the  blown  rose; 
and  afar  off  upon  the  side  of  a  mountain  sat  Mana- 
bozho,  his  head  upon  his  knees,  languid  and  cast 
down  in  spirit.  His  power  was  gone,  for  now  Grass 
hopper  was  in  the  right,  and  he  could  touch  him  no 
more. 

With  many  thanks,  Grasshopper  left  the  good 
Manito,  taking  the  nearest  way  home  to  his  own 
people. 

As  he  passed  on,  he  fell  in  with  an  old  man  who 
was  wandering  about  the  country  in  search  of  some 
place  which  he  could  not  find.  As  soon  as  he 
learned  his  difficulty,  Grasshopper,  placing  the  old 
man  upon  his  back,  hurried  away,  and  in  a  short 
hour's  dispatch  of  foot  set  him  down  among  his  own 
kindred,  of  whom  he  had  been  in  quest. 

Loosing  no  time,  Grasshopper  next  came  to  an 
open  plain,  where  a  small  number  of  men  stood  at 


36  THE    INDIAN    FAIKY    BOOK. 

bay,  and  on  the  very  point  of  being  borne  down  by 
great  odds,  in  a  force  of  armed  warriors,  fierce  of  as 
pect  and  of  prodigious  strength.  When  Grasshopper 
saw  this  unequal  struggle,  rushing  forward  he  seized 
a  long  bare  pole,  and,  wielding  it  with  his  whole 
force,  he  drove  the  fierce  warriors  back;  and,  laying 
about  him  on  every  hand,  he  soon  sent  them  a  thou 
sand  ways  in  great  haste,  and  in  a  very  sore  plight. 

Without  tarrying  to  receive  the  thanks  of  those  to 
whom  he  had  brought  this  timely  relief,  he  made  his 
utmost  speed,  and  by  the  close  of  the  afternoon  he 
had  come  in  sight  of  his  own  village.  W'hat  were  his 
surprise  and  horror,  as  he  approached  nearer,  to  dis 
cover  the  bears  in  excellent  case  and  flesh,  seated  at 
lazy  leisure  in  the  trees,  looking  idly  on  while  his 
brother  Indians,  for  their  pastime,  were  dancing  a 
fantastic  and  wearisome  dance,  in  the  course  of  which 
they  were  frequently  compelled  to  go  upon  all  fours 
and  bow  their  heads  in  profound  obeisance  to  their 
bear-masters  in  the  trees. 

As  he  drew  nearer,  his  heart  sunk  within  him  to 
Bee  how  starved,  and  hollow-eyed,  and  woe-begone 
they  were;  and  his  horror  was  at  its  height  when,  as 
he  entered  his  own  lodge,  he  beheld  his  favorite  and 
friend,  the  Pipe-bearer,  also  on  all  fours,  smoothing 
the  floor  with  the  palms  of  his  hands  to  make  it  a 
comfortable  sitting-place  for  the  bears  on  their  re 
turn  from  the  dance.  ^ 


EXPLOITS    OF    GRASSHOPPER.  67 

It  did  not  take  Grasshopper  a  long  time  to  resolve 
what  he  should  do.  He  immediately  resumed  power 
in  the  village,  bestowed  a  sound  cudgeling  upon  the 
bears,  and  sent  them  off  to  live  in  the  mountains, 
among  their  own  people,  as  bears  should;  restored  to 
the  people  all  their  rights;  gave  them  plenty  to  eat 
and  drink;  exerting  his  great  strength  in  hunting,  in 
rebuilding  their  lodges,  keeping  in  check  their  ene 
mies,  and  doing  all  the  good  he  could  to  every  body. 

Peace  and  plenty  soon  shone  and  showered  upon 
the  spot;  and,  never  once  thinking  of  all  his  wild  and 
wanton  frolics,  the  people  blessed  Grasshopper  for  all 
his  kindness,  and  sincerely  prayed  that  his  name 
might  "be  held  in  honor  for  a  thousand  years  to 
come,  as  no  doubt  it  will. 

Little  Pipe-bearer  stood  by  Grasshopper  in  all  his 
course,  and  admired  his  ways  as  much  now  that  he 
had  taken  to  being  orderly  and  useful,  as  in  the  old 
times,  when  he  was  walking  a  mile  a  minute,  and 
in  mere  wantonness  bringing  home  whole  forests  in 
his  arms  for  fire-wood,  in  midsummer. 

It  was  a  great  old  age  to  'which  Grasshopper  lived, 
and  when  at  last  he  came  to  die,  there  was  not  a  dry 
eye  in  all  that  part  of  the  world  where  he  spent  his 
latter  days. 


v. 

THE  TWO  JEEBI. 

rilHEKE  lived  a  hunter  in  the  North,  who  had  a 
wife  and  one  child.  His  lodge  stood  far  off  in 
the  forest ,  several  days'  journey  from  any  other.  He 
spent  his  days  in  hunting,  and  his  evenings  in  relat- 
irig  to  his  wife  the  incidents  that  had  befallen  him. 
As  game  was  very  abundant,  he  found  no  difficulty 
in  killing  as  much  as  they  wanted.  «  Just  in  all  his 
acts,  he  lived  a  peaceful  and  happy  life. 

One  evening  during  the  winter  season,  it  chanced 
that  he  remained  out  longer  than  usual,  and  his  wife 
began  to  fear  that  some  accident  had  befallen  him. 
It  was  already  dark.  She  listened  attentively,  and 
at  last  heard  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps. 
Not  doubting  that  it  was  her  husband,  she  went 
to  the  door  and  beheld  two  strange  females.  She 
bade  them  enter,  and  invited  them  to  remain.  She 
observed  that  they  were  total  strangers  in  the  coun 
try.  There  was  something  so  peculiar  in  their  looks, 
air  and  manner,  that  she  was  disturbed  by  their  pres 
ence.  They  would  not  come  near  to  the  fire.  They 


THETWOJEEBI.  69 

sat  in  a  remote  part  of  the  lodge,  shy  and  taciturn, 
and  dreW  their  garments  about  them  in  such  a  man 
ner  as  nearly  to  hide  their  faces.  So  far  as  she  could 
judge,  they  were  pale,  hollow-eyed,  and  long-visaged, 
very  thin  and  emaciated. 

There  was  but  little  light  in  the  lodge,  as  the  fire 
was  low,  and  its  fitful  flashes,  by  disclosing  their 
white  faces  and  then  dropping  them  in  sudden  dark 
ness,  served  rather  to  increase  than  to  dispel  her 
fears. 

"Merciful  Spirit!"  cried  a  voice  from  the  opposite 
part  of  the  lodge;  "there  are  two  corpses  clothed 
with  garments!" 

The  hunter's  wife  turned  around,  but  seeing  no 
body  save  her  little  child,  staring  across  from  under 
his  blanket,  she  said  to  herself,  "  The  boy  can  not 
speak;  the  sounds  were  but  the  gusts  of  wind."  She 
trembled,  and  was  ready  to  sink  to  the  earth. 

Her  husband  at  this  moment  entered,  and  in  some 
measure  relieved  her  alarm.  He  threw  down  the  car 
cass  of  a  large  fat  deer. 

"Behold  what  a  fine  and  fat  animal!"  cried  the 
mysterious  females;  and  they  immediately  ran  and 
pulled  off  pieces  of  the  whitest  fat,  which  they  greed 
ily  devoured. 

The  hunter  and  his  wife  looked  on  with  astonish 
ment,  but  remained  silent.  They  supposed  that 
their  guests  might  have  been  stricken  with  famine. 


70  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

The  next  day,,  however,  the  same  unusual  conduct 
was  repeated.  The  strange  females  again  tore  off 
the  fat  and  devoured  it  with  eagerness.  The  third 
day,  the  hunter  thought  that  he  would  anticipate 
their  wants  by  tying  up  a  share  of  the  hunt,  and 
placing  it  apart  for  their  express  use.  They  ac 
cepted  it,  but  still  appeared  dissatisfied,  and  went 
to  the  wife's  portion  and  tore  off  more. 

The  hunter  and  his  wife  were  surprised  at  such 
rude  and  unaccountable  conduct,  but  they  remained 
silent,  for  they  respected  their  guests,  and  had  ob 
served  that  they  had  been  attended  with  marked 
good  luck  during  the  sojourn  of  these  mysterious 
visitors  in  their  lodge. 

In  other  respects,  the  deportment  of  the  females 
was  strictly  unexceptionable.  They  were  modest, 
distant,  and  silent.  They  never  uttered  a  word  dur 
ing  the  day.  At  night  they  would  occupy  themselves 
in  procuring  wood,  which  they  carried  to  the  lodge, 
and  then,  restoring  the  implements  exactly  where 
they  had  found  them,  resume  their  places  without 
speaking.  They  were  never  known  to  stay  out  until 
daylight.  They  never  laughed  or  jested. 

The  winter  was  nearly  passed  away,  when,  one 
evening,  the  hunter  was  abroad  later  than  usual. 
The  moment  he  came  in  and  laid  down  his  day's 
hunt,  as  was  his  custom,  before  his  wife,  the  two  fe 
males  seized  upon  the  deer  and  began  to  tear  off  the 


THETWOJEEBI.  71 

fat  in  so  unceremonious  a  way  that  her  anger  was 
excited.  She  constrained  herself,  however,  in  a  good 
degree,  but  she  could  not  conceal  her  feelings,  though 
she  said  hut  little. 

The  strange  guests  observed  the  state  of  her  mind, 
and  they  became  uneasy,  and  withdrew  further  still 
into  the  remote  gloom  of  the  lodge.  The  good 
hunter  saw  the  eclipse  that  was  darkening  the  quiet 
of  his  lodge,  and  carefully  inquired  of  its  cause;  but 
his  wife  denied  having  used  any  words  of  complain 
ing  or  reproach. 

They  retired  to  their  couches,  and  the  hunter  tried 
to  compose  himself  to  sleep,  but  could  not,  for  the 
sighs  and  sobs  of  the  two  females  were  incessant. 
He  arose  on  his  couch  and  addressed  them  as  follows: 

"Tell  me/'  said  he,  "what  is  it  that  gives  you 
pain  of  mind  and  causes  you  to  bemoan  your  pres 
ence  here.  Has  my  wife  given  you  offense,  or  tres 
passed  upon  the  rights  of  hospitality?" 

They  replied  in  the  negative.  "  We  have  been 
treated  by  you  with  kindness  and  affection.  It  is  not 
for  any  slight  we  have  received  that  we  weep.  Our 
mission  is  not  to  you  only.  We  come  from  the  other 
land  to  test  mankind,  and  to  try  the  sincerity  of  the 
living.  Often  we  have  heard  the  bereaved  by  death 
say  that  if  the  lost  could  be  restored,  they  would  de 
vote  their  lives  to  make  them  happy.  We  have  been 
moved  by  the  bitter  lamentations  which  have  reached 


72  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

the  place  of  the  departed,  and  have  come  to  make 
proof  of  the  sincerity  of  those  who  have  lost  friends. 
We  are  your  two  dead  sisters.  Three  moons  were 
allotted  us  by  the  Master  of  Life  to  make  the  trial. 
More  than  half  the  time  had  heen  successfully  passed, 
when  the  angry  feelings  of  your  wife  indicated  the 
irksorneness  you  felt  at  our  presence,  and  has  made 
us  resolve  on  our  departure." 

They  continued  to  talk  to  the  hunter  and  his  wife, 
gave  them  instructions  as  to  a  future  life,  and  pro 
nounced  a  blessing  upon  them. 

"  There  is  one  point,"  they  added,  "  of  which  we 
wish  to  speak.  You  have  thought  our  conduct  very 
strange  and  rude  in  possessing  ourselves  of  the 
choicest  parts  of  your  hunt.  That  was  the  point  of 
trial  selected  to  put  you  to.  It  is  the  wife's  peculiar 
privilege.  You  love  your  wife.  For  another  to  usurp 
what  belongs  to  her,  we  know  to  be  the  severest  test 
of  her  goodness  of  heart,  and  consequently  of  your 
temper  and  feelings.  We  knew  your  manners  and 
customs,  but  we  came  to  prove  you,  not  by  complying 
with  but  by  violating  them.  Pardon  us.  We  are  the 
agents  of  him  who  sent  us.  Peace  to  your  dwelling. 
Farewell  \" 

When  they  ceased,  total  darkness  filled  the  lodge. 
No  object  could  be  seen.  The  inmates  heard  the 
lodge-door  open  and  shut,  but  they  never  saw  more  of 
the  Two  Spirits.  , 


THE    TWO    JEEBI.  73 

The  hunter  found  the  success  which  they  had  prom 
ised.  He  became  celebrated  in  the  chase,  and  nevei 
wanted  for  any  thing.  He  had  many  children,  all  of 
whom  grew  up  to  manho'od  ;  and  he  who  had  lain  in 
the  lodge,  a  little  child,  while  the  Jeebi  dwelt  there, 
led  them  in  all  good  deeds,  and  health,  peace,  and 
long  life  were  the  rewards  of  the  hunter's  hospitality. 

4 


VI. 

OSSEO,  THE  SON  OF  THE  EVENING  STAR. 

FT!  HEBE  once  lived  an  Indian  in  the  north  who  had 
-L  ten  daughters,  all  of  whom  grew  up  to  woman 
hood.  They  were  rioted  for  their  beauty,  especially 
Oweenee,  the  youngest,  who  was  very  independent  in 
her  way  of  thinking.  She  was  a  great  admirer  of 
romantic  places,  and  spent  much  of  her  time  with 
the  flowers  and  winds  and  clouds  in  the  open  air. 
Though  the  flower  were  homely,  if  it  was  fragrant — 
though  the  wind  were  rough,  if  it  was  healthful — and 
though  the  cloud  were  dark,  if  it  embosomed  the  fruit 
ful  rain,  she  knew  how,  in  spite  of  appearances,  to 
acknowledge  the  good  qualities  concealed  from  the  eye. 
She  paid  very  little  attention  to  the  many  handsome 
young  men  who  came  to  her  father's  lodge  for  the  pur 
pose  of  seeing  her. 

Her  elder  sisters  were  all  sought  in  marriage,  and 
one  after  the  other  they  went  off  to  dwell  in  the 
lodges  of  their  husbands  ;  but  Oweenee  was  deaf  to 
all  proposals  of  the  kind.  At  last  she  married  an  old 


SON    OF    THE    EVENING    STAR.  *  75 

man  called  Osseo,  who  was  scarcely  able  to  walk,  and 
who  was  too  poor  to  have  things  like  others.  The 
only  property  he  owned  in  the  world  was  the  walking- 
staff  which  he  carried  in  his  hand.  Though  thus  poor 
and  homely,  Osseo  was  a  devout  and  good  man  ; 
faithful  in  all  his  duties,  and  obedient  in  all  things 
to  the  Good  Spirit.  Of  course  they  jeered  and 
laughed  at  Oweenee  on  all  sides,  but  she  seemed  to 
be  quite  happy,  and  said  to  them,  "  It  is  my  choice 
and  you  will  see  in  the  end  who  has  acted  the  wisest." 

They  made  a  special  mock  of  the  walking-staff,  and 
scarcely  an  hour  in  the  day  passed  that  they  had  not 
some  disparaging  reference  to  it.  Among  themselves 
they  spoke  of  Osseo  of  the  walking-staff,  in  derision, 
as  the  owner  of  the  big  woods,  or  the  great  timber- 
man. 

"  True  "  said  Oweenee,  "  it  is  but  a  simple  stick  ; 
but  as  it  supports  the  steps  of  my  husband,  it  is 
more  precious  to  me  than  all  the  forests  of  the 
north." 

A  time  came  when  the  sisters,  and  their  husbands, 
and  their  parents  were  all  invited  to  a  feast.  As  the 
distance  was  considerable,  they  doubted  whether 
Osseo,  so  aged  and  feeble,  would  be  able  to  under 
take  the  journey  ;  but  in  spite  of  their  friendly 
doubts,  he  joined  them,  and  set  out  with  a  good 
heart. 

As   they  walked  along  the  path  they  could  not 


76^  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

help  pitying  their  young  and  handsome  sister  who 
had  such  an  unsuitable  mate.  She,  however,  smiled 
upon  Osseo,  and  kept  with  him  by  the  way  the 
same  as  if  he  had  been  the  comeliest  bridegroom 
in  all  the  company.  Osseo  often  stopped  and  gazed 
upward  ;  but  they  could  perceive  nothing  in  the  di 
rection  in  which  he  looked,  unless  it  was  the  faint 
glimmering  of  the  evening  star.  They  heard  him 
muttering  to  himself  as  they  went  along,  and  one  of 
the  elder  sisters  caught  the  words,  "  Pity  me,  my 
father !" 

"  Poor  old  man,"  said  she  ;  "  he  is  talking  to  his 
father.  What  a  pity  it  is  that  he  would  not  fall  and 
break  his  neck,  that  our  sister  might  have  a  young 
husband." 

Presently  as  they  came  to  a  great  rock  where  Osseo 
had  been  used  to  breathe  his  morning  and  his  even 
ing  prayer,  the  star  emitted  a  brighter  ray,  which 
shone  directly  in  his  face.  Osseo,  with  a  sharp  cry, 
fell  trembling  to  the  earth,  where  the  others  would 
have  left  him,  but  his  good  wife  raised  him  up,  and 
he  sprang  forward  on  the  path,  and  with  steps  light 
as  the  reindeer  he  led  the  party,  no  longer  decrepid 
and  infirm,  but  a  beautiful  young  man.  On  turning 
around  to  look  for  his  wife,  behold  she  had  become 
changed,  at  the  same  moment,  into  an  aged  and 
feeble  woman,  bent  almost  double,  and  walking  with 
the  staff  which  he  had  cast  aside. 


SON    OF    THE    EVENING    STAK.  77 

Osseo  immediately  joined  her,  and  with  looks  of 
fondness  and  the  tenderest  regard,  bestowed  on  her 
every  endearing  attention,  and  constantly  addressed 
her  by  the  term  of  ne-ne-moosh-a,  or  my  sweetheart. 

As  they  walked  along,  whenever  they  were  not 
gazing  fondly  in  each  other's  face,  they  bent  their 
looks  on  heaven,  and  a  light,  as  if  of  far-off  stars, 
was  in  their  eyes. 

On  arriving  at  the  lodge  of  the  hunter  with  whom 
they  were  to  feast,  they  found  the  banquet  ready, 
and  as  soon  as  their  entertainer  had  finished  his 
harangue — in  which  he  told  them  his  feasting  was  in 
honor  of  the  Evening  or  Woman's  Star — they  began 
to  partake  of  the  portion  dealt  out,  according  to  age 
and  character,  to  each  one  of  the  guests.  The  food 
was  very  delicious,  and  they  were  all  happy  but 
Osseo,  who  looked  at  his  wife,  and  then  gazed  up 
ward,  as  if  he  was^  looking  into  the  substance  of  the 
sky.  Sounds  were  soon  heard,  as  if  from  far-off 
voices  in  the  air,  and  they  became  plainer  arid 
plainer,  till  he  could  clearly  distinguish  some  of  the 
words. 

"  My  son,  my  son,"  said  the  voice;  "  I  have  seen  your 
afflictions,  and  pity  your  wants.  T  come  to  call  you 
away. from  a  scene  that  is  stained  with  blood  and 
tears.  The  earth  is  full  of  sorrows.  Wicked  spirits, 
the  enemies  of  mankind,  walk  abroad,  and  lie  in  wait 
to  ensnare  the  children  of  the  sky.  Every  night  they 


78  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

are  lifting  their  voices  to  the  Power  of  Evil,  and  every 
day  they  make  themselves  busy  in  casting  mischief  in 
the  hunter's  path.  You  have  long  been  their  victim, 
but  you  shall  be  their  victim  no  more.  The  spell  you 
were  under  is  broken.  Your  evil  genius  is  overcome. 
I  have  cast  him  down  by  my  superior  strength,  and  it 
is  this  strength  I  now  exert  for  your  happiness.  As 
cend,  my  son;  ascend  into  the  skies,  and  partake  of 
the  feast  I  have  prepared  for  you  in  the  stars,  and 
bring  with  you  those  you  love. 

"  The  food  set  before  you  is  enchanted  and  blessed. 
Fear  not  to  partake  of  it.  It  is  endowed  with  magic 
power  to  give  immortality  to  mortals,  and  to  change 
men  to  spirits.  Your  bowls  and  kettles  shall  no 
longer  be  wood  and  earth.  The  one  shall  become  sil 
ver,  and  the  other  pure  gold.  They  shall  shine  like  fire, 
and  glisten  like  the  most  beautiful  scarlet.  Every  fe 
male  shall  also  change  her  state  and  looks,  and  no 
longer  be  doomed  to  laborious  tasks.  She  shall  put 
on  the  beauty  of  the  star-light,  and  become  a  shining 
bird  of  the  air.  She  shall  dance,  and  not  work.  She 
shall  sing,  and  not  cry. 

"  My  beams,"  continued  the  voice,  "  shine  faintly 
on  your  lodge,  but  they  have  power  to  transform  it 
into  the  lightness  of  the  skies,  and  decorate  it  with 
the  colors  of  the  clouds.  Come,  Osseo,  my  son,  and 
dwell  no  longer  on  earth.  Think  strongly  on  my 
words,  and  look  steadfastly  at  my  beams.  My  power 


SON    OF    THE    EVENING    STAB.  79 

is  now  at  its  height.  Doubt  not,  delay  not.  It  is  the 
voice  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Stars  that  calls  you  away  to 
happiness  and  celestial  rest." 

The  words  were  intelligible  to  Osseo,  but  his  com 
panions  thought  them  some  far-off  sounds  of  music, 
or  birds  singing  in  the  woods.  Very  soon  the  lodge 
began  to  shake  and  tremble,  and  they  felt  it  rising 
into  the  air.  It  was  too  late  to  run  out,  for  they  were 
already  as  high  as  the  tops  of  the  trees.  Osseo  looked 
around  him  as  the  lodge  passed  through  the  topmost 
boughs,  and  behold !  their  wooden  dishes  were 
changed  into  shells  of  a  scarlet  color,  the  poles  of  the 
lodge  to  glittering  rods  of  silver,  and  the  bark  that 
covered  them  into  the  gorgeous  wings  of  insects. 

A  moment  more  and  his  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
their  parents  and  friends,  were  transformed  into  birds 
of  various  plumage.  Some  were  jays,  some  par 
tridges  and  pigeons,  and  others  gay  singing  birds, 
who  hopped  about,  displaying  their  many-colored 
feathers,  and  singing  songs  of  cheerful  note. 

But  his  wife,  Oweenee,  still  kept  her  earthly  garb, 
and  exhibited  all  the  indications  of  extreme  old  age. 
He  again  cast  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  clouds, 
and  uttered  the  peculiar  cry  which  had  given  him  the 
victory  at  the  rock.  In  a  moment  the  youth  and 
beauty  of  his  wife  returned;  her  dingy  garments  as 
sumed  the  shining  appearance  of  green  silk,  and  her 
staff  was  changed  into  a  silver  feather 


80  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

The  lodge  again  shook  and  trembled,  for  they  were 
now  passing  through  the  uppermost  clouds,  and  they 
immediately  after  found  themselves  in  the  Evening 
Star,  the  residence  of  Osseo's  father. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "  hang  that  cage  of 
birds  which  you  have  brought  along  in  your  hand  at 
the  door,  and  I  will  inform  you  why  you  and  your 
wife  have  been  sent  for." 

Osseo  obeyed,  and  then  took  his  seat  in  the  lodge. 

"  Pity  was  shown  to  you,"  resumed  the  King  of 
the  Star,  "  on  account  of  the  contempt  of  your  wife's 
sister,  who  laughed  at  her  ill  fortune,  and  ridiculed 
you  while  you  were  under  the  power  of  that  wicked 
spirit  whom  you  overcame  at  the  rock.  That  spirit 
lives  in  the  next  lodge,  being  the  small  star  you  see 
on  the  left  of  mine,  and  he  has  always  felt  envious  of 
my  family  because  we  had  greater  power,  and  es 
pecially  that  we  had  committed  to  us  the  care  of  the 
female  world.  He  failed  in  many  attempts  to  destroy 
your  brothers  and  sisters-in-law,  but  succeeded  at 
last  in  transforming  yourself  and  your  wife  into  de- 
crepid  old  persons.  You  must  be  careful  and  not 
let  the  light  of  his  beams  fall  on  you,  while  you  are 
here,  for  therein  lies  the  power  of  his  enchantment. 
A  ray  of  light  is  the  bow  and  arrow  he  uses." 

Osseo  lived  happy  and  contented  in  the  parental 
lodge,  and  in  due  time  his  wife  presented  him  with 
a  son,  who  grew  up  rapidly,  and  in  the  very  likeness 


SON    OF    THE    EVENING    STAR.  81 

of  Osseo  himself.  He  was  very  quick  and  ready  in 
learning  every  thing  that  was  done  in  his  grandfa 
ther's  dominions,  but  he  wished  also  to  learn  the  art 
of  hunting,  for  he  had  heard  that  this  was  a  favor 
ite  pursuit  below.  To  gratify  him,  his  father  made 
him  a  bow  and  arrows,  and  he  then  let  the  birds  out 
of  the  cage  that  he  might  practice  in  shooting.  In 
this  pastime  he  soon  became  expert,  and  the  very 
first  day  he  brought  down  a  bird;  but  when  he  went 
to  pick  it  up,  to  his  amazement  it  was  a  beautiful 
young  woman,  with  the  arrow  sticking  in  her  breast. 
It  was  one  of  his  younger  aunts. 

The  moment  her  blood  fell  upon  the  surface  of 
that  pure  and  spotless  planet,  the  charm  was  dis 
solved.  The  boy  immediately  found  himself  sinking, 
although  he  was  partly  upheld  by  something  like 
wings  until  he  passed  through  the  lower  clouds,  and 
he  then  suddenly  dropped  upon  a  high,  breezy  isl 
and  in  a  large  lake.  He  was  pleased,  on  looking 
up,  to  see  all  his  aunts  and  uncles  following  him  in 
the  form  of  birds,  and  he  soon  discovered  the  silver 
lodge,  with  his  father  and  mother,  descending,  with 
its  waving  tassels  fluttering  like  so  many  insects' 
gilded  wings.  It  rested  on  the  loftiest  cliffs  of  the 
island,  and  there  they  fixed  their  residence.  They 
all  resumed  their  natural  shapes,  but  they  were  di 
minished  to  the  size  of  fairies;  and  as  a  mark  of 
homage  to  the  King  of  the  Evening  Star,  they  never 

4* 


82  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

failed  on  every  pleasant  evening  during  the  summei 
season  to  join  hands  and  dance  upon  the  top  of  the 
rocks.  These  rocks  were  quickly  observed  by  the  In 
dians  to  be  covered,  in  moonlight  evenings,  with  a 
larger  sort  of  Ininees,  or  little  men,  and  were  called 
Mish-in-e-mok-in-ok-ong,  or  Little  Spirits,  and  the 
island  is  named  from  them  to  this  day. 

Their  shining  lodge  can  be  seen  in  the  summer 
evenings,  when  the  moon  beams  strongly  on  the  pin 
nacles  of  the  rocks;  and  the  fishermen  who  go  near 
those  high  cliffs  at  night,  have  even  heard  the  voices 
of  the  happy  little  dancers.  And  Osseo  and  his  wife, 
as  fondly  attached  to  each  other  as  ever,  always  lead 
the  dance. 


VII. 

GRAY  EAGLE  AND  HIS  FIVE  BROTHERS. 

npHERE  were  six  falcons  living  in  a  nest,  five  of 
J-  whom  were  still  too  young  to  fly,  when  it  so  hap 
pened  that  both  the  parent  birds  were  shot  in  one 
day.  The  young  brood  waited  anxiously  for  their 
return  ;  but  night  carne,  and  they  were  left  without 
parents  and  without  food. 

Gray  Eagle,  the  eldest,  and  the  only  one  whose 
feathers  had  become  stout  enough  to  enable  him  to 
leave  the  nest,  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  the 
family,  and  assumed  the  duty  of  stifling  their  cries 
and  providing  the  little  household  with  food,  in 
which  he  was  very  successful.  But,  after  a  short 
time  had  passed,  by  an  unlucky  mischance,  while 
out  on  a  foraging  excursion,  he  got  one  of  his 
wings  broken.  This  was  the  more  to  be  regretted,  as 
the  season  had  arrived  when  they  were  soon  to  go  to  a 
southern  country  to  pass  the  winter,  and  the  chil 
dren  were  only  waiting  to  become  a  little  stronger  and 
more  expert  on  the  wing  to  set  out  on  the  journey. 


84  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

Finding  that  their  elder  brother  did  not  return, 
they  resolved  to  go  in  search  of  him.  After  beating 
up  and  down  the  country  for  the  better  part  of  a 
whole  day,  they  at  last  found  him,  sorely  wounded 
and  unable  to  fly,  lodged  in  the  upper  branches  of  a 
sycamore-tree. 

"  Brothers,"  said  Gray  Eagle,  as  soon  as  they  were 
gathered  around,  and  questioned  him  as  to  the  ex 
tent  of  his  injuries,  "  an  accident  has  befallen  me, 
but  let  not  this  prevent  your  going  to  a  warmer 
climate.  Winter  is  rapidly  approaching,  and  you 
can  not  remain  here.  It  is  better  that  I  alone  should 
die,  than  for  you  all  to  suffer  on  my  account." 

"No,  no,"  they  replied,  with  one  voice.  "We 
will  not  forsake  you.  We  will  share  your  sufferings  ; 
we  will  abandon  our  journey,  and  take  care  of  you  as 
you  did  of  us  before  we  were  able  to  take  care  of 
ourselves.  If  the  chill  climate  kills  you,  it  shall  kill 
us.  Do  you  think  we  can  so  soon  forget  your  broth 
erly  care,  which  has  equaled  a  father's,  and  even  a 
mother's  kindness  ?  Whether  you  live  or  die,  we 
will  live  or  die  with  you." 

They  sought  out  a  hollow  tree  to  winter  in,  and 
contrived  to  carry  their  wounded  nest-mate  thither  ; 
and  before  the  rigor  of  the  season  had  set  in,  they 
had,  by  diligence  and  economy,  stored  up  food  enough 
to  carry  them  through  the  winter  months. 

To  make  the  provisions  they  had  laid  in  last  the 


GRAY  EAGLE  AND  HIS  FIVE  BROTHERS.   85 

better,  it  was  agreed  among  them  that  two  of  their 
number  should  go  south  ;  leaving  the  other  three  to 
watch  over,  feed,  and  protect  their  wounded  brother. 
The  travelers  set  forth,  sorry  to  leave  home,  but 
resolved  that  the  first  promise  of  spring  should  bring 
them  back  again.  At  the  close  of  day,  the  three 
brothers  who  remained,  mounting  to  the  very  peak 
of  the  tree,  and  bearing  Gray  Eagle  in  their  arms, 
watc&ed  them,  as  they  vanished  away  southward,  till 
their  forms  blended  with  the  air  and  were  wholly 
lost  to  sight. 

Their  next  business  was  to  set  the  household  in 
order,  and  this,  with  the  judicious  direction  of  Gray 
Eagle,  who  was  propped  up  in  a  snug  fork,  with  soft 
cushions  of  dry  moss,  they  speedily  accomplished.' 
One  of  the  sisters,  for  there  were  two  of  these,  took 
upon  herself  the  charge  of  nursing  Gray  Eagle,  pre 
paring  his  food,  bringing  him  water,  and  changing 
his  pillows  when  he  grew  tired  of  one  position.  She 
also  looked  to  it  that  the  house  itself  was  kept  in  a 
tidy  condition,  and  that  the  pantry  was  supplied 
with  food.  The  second  brother  was  assigned  the 
duty  of  physician,  and  he  was  to  prescribe  such  herbs  , 
and  other  medicines  as  the  state  of  the  health  of 
Gray  Eagle  seemed  to  require.  As  the  second  broth 
er  had  no  other  in  valid- on  his  visiting-list,  he  de 
voted  the  time  not  given  to  the  cure  of  his  patient, 
to  the  killing  of  game  wherewith  to  stock  the  house- 


86  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

keeper's  larder ;  so  that,  whatever  he  did,  he  was 
always  busy  in  the  line  of  professional  duty — killing 
or  curing:  On  his  hunting  excursions,  Doctor  Falcon 
carried  with  him  his  youngest  brother,  who,  being  a 
foolish  young  fellow,  and  inexperienced  in  the  ways 
of  the  world,  it  was  not  thought  safe  to  trust  alone. 

In  due  time,  what  with  good  nursing,  and  good 
feeding,  and  good  air,  Gray  Eagle  recovered  from  his 
wound,  and  he  repaid  the  kindness  of  his  brothers  by 
giving  them  such  advice  and  instruction  in  the  art  of 
hunting  as  his  age  and  experience  qualified  him  to  im 
part.  As  spring  advanced,  they  began  to  look  about 
for  the  means  of  replenishing  their  store-house,  whose 
supplies  were  running  low;  and  they  were  all  quite 
successful  in  their  quest  except  the  youngest,  whose 
name  was  Peepi,  or  the  Pigeon-Hawk,  and  who  had 
of  late*  begun  to  set  up  for  himself.  Being  small 
and  foolish,  and  feather-headed,  flying  hither  and 
yonder  without  any  set  purpose,  it  so  happened  that 
Peepi  always  came  home,  so  to  phrase  it,  with  an 
empty  game-bag,  and  his  pinions  terribly  rumpled. 

At  last  Gray  Eagle  spoke  to  him,  and  demanded 
the  cause  of  his  ill-luck. 

"  It  is  not  my  smallness  nor  weakness  of  body," 
Peepi  answered,  "  that  prevents  my  bringing  home 
provender  as  well  as  my  brothers.  I  am  all  the 
time  on  the  wing,  hither  and  thither.  I  kill  ducks 
and  other  birds  every  time  I  go  out;  but  just  as  I 


GRAY    EAGLE   AND    HIS   FIVE    BROTHERS.       87 

get  to  the  woods,  on  my  way  home,  I  am  met  by  a 
large  ko-ko-ho,  who  robs  me  of  my  prey;  and/ 
added  Peepi,  with  great  energy,  "it's  my  settled 
opinion  that  the  villain  lies  in  wait  for  the  very  pur 
pose  of  doing  so." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  right,  Brother  Peepi," 
rejoined  Gray  Eagle.  "I  know  this  pirate — his 
name  is  White  Owl;  and  now  that  I  feel  my  strength 
fully  recovered,  I  will  go  out  with  you  to-morrow 
and  help  you  look  after  this  greedy  bush-ranger." 

The  next  day  they  went  forth  in  company,  and  ar 
rived  at  a  fine  fresh- water  lake.  Gray  Eagle  seated 
himself  hard  by,  while  Peepi  started  out,  and  soon 
pounced  upon  a  duck. 

"Well  done!"  thought  his  brother,  who  saw  his 
success;  but  just  as  little  Peepi  was  getting  to  land 
with  his  prize,  up  sailed  a  large  white  owl  from  a 
tree  where  he,  too,  had  been  watching,  and  laid 
claim  to  it.  He  was  on  the  point  of  wresting  it 
from  Peepi,  when  Gray  Eagle,  calling  out  to  the  in 
truder  to  desist,  rushed  up,  and,  fixing  his  talons  in 
both  sides  of  the  owl,  without  further  introduction 
or  ceremony,  flew  away  with  him. 

The  little  Pigeon-Hawk  followed  closely,  with  the 
duck  under  his  wing,  rejoiced  and  happy  to  think 
that  he  had  something  to  carry  home  at  last.  He 
was  naturally  much  vexed  with  the  owl,  and  had  no 
sooner  delivered  over  the  duck  to  his  sister,  the 


88  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

housekeeper,  than  he  flew  in  the  owl's  face,  and, 
venting  an  abundance  of  reproachful  terms,  would, 
in  his  passion,  have  torn  the  very  eyes  out  of  the 
White  Owl's  head. 

"  Softly,  Peepi,"  said  the  Gray  Eagle,  stepping  in 
between  them.  "  Don't  be  in  such  a  huff,  my  little 
brother,  nor  exhibit  so  revengeful  a  temper,  Do 
you  not  know  that  we  are  to  forgive  our  enemies  ? 
White  Owl,  you  may  go;  but  let  this  be  a  lesson  to 
you,  not  to  play  the  tyrant  over  those  who  may 
chance  to  be  weaker  than  yourself." 

So,  after  adding  to  this  much  more  goo  1  advice, 
and  telling  him  what  kind  of  herbs  would  cure  his 
wounds,  Gray  Eagle  dismissed  White  Owl,  and  the 
four  brothers  and  sisters  sat  down  to  supper. 

The  next  day,  betimes,  in  the  morning,  before  the 
household  had  fairly  rubbed  fhe  cobwebs'out  of  the 
corners  of  their  eyes,  there  came  a  knock  at  the 
front  door — which  was  a  dry  branch  that  lay  down 
before  the  hollow  of  the  tree  in  which  they  lodged — 
and  being  called  to  come  in,  who  should  make  their 
appearance  but  the  two  nest-mates,  who  had  just  re 
turned  from  the  South,  where  they  had  been  winter 
ing.  There  was  great  rejoicing  over  their  return, 
and  now  that  they  were  all  happily  re-united,  each 
one  soon  chose  a  mate  and  began  to  keep  house  in 
the  woods  for  himself. 

Spring  ha*d  now  revisited  the  North.      The  cold 


GRAY   EAGLE   AND    HIS   FIVE   BROTHERS.       89 

winds  had  all  blown  themselves  away,  the  ice  had 
melted,  the  streams  were  open,  and  smiled  as  they 
looked  at  the  blue  sky  once  more;  and  the  forests, 
far  and  wide,  in  their  green  mantle,  echoed  every 
cheerful  sound. 

But  it  is  in  vain  that  spring  returns,  and  that 
the  heart  of  Nature  is  opened  in  bounty,  if  we  are 
not  thankful  to  the  Master  of  Life,  who  has  preserved 
us  through  the  winter.  Nor  does  that  man  answer 
the  end  for  which  he  was  made  who  does  not  show  a 
kind  and  charitable  feeling  to  all  who  are  in  want 
or  sickness,  especially  to  his  blood  relations. 

The  love  and  harmony  of  Gray  Eagle  and  his 
brothers  continued.  They  never  forgot  each  other. 
Every  week,  on  the  fourth  afternoon  of  the  week 
(for  that  was  the  time  when  they  had  found  their 
wounded  elder  brother),  they  had  a  meeting  in  the 
hollow  of  the  old  sycamore-tree,  when  they  talked 
over  family  matters,  and  advised  with  each  other,  aa 
brothers  should/ about  their  affairs. 


VIII. 


THE   TOAD-WOMAN. 


C\  BEAT  good  luck  once  happened  to  a  young  wo- 
^-J  man  who  was  living  all  alone  in  the  woods  with 
nobody  near  her  but  her  little  dog;  for,  to  her  surprise, 
she  found  fresh  meat  every  morning  at  her  door.  She 
was  very  curious  to  know  who  it  was  that  supplied 
her,  and  watching  one  morning,  just  as  the  sun  had 
risen,  she  saw  a  handsome  young  man  gliding  away 
into  the  forest.  Having  seen  her,  he  became  her 
husband,  and  she  had  a  son  by  him. 

One  day,  not  long  after  this,  he  did  not  return  at 
evening,  as  usual,  from  hunting.  She  waited  till  late 
at  night,  but  he  came  no  more. 

The  next  day,  she  swung  her  child  to  sleep  in  its 
cradle,  and  then  said  to  her  dog,  "  Take  care  of  your 
brother  while  I  am  gone,  and  when  he  cries,  halloo 
for  me." 

The  cradle  was  made  of  the  finest  wampum,  and 
all  its  bandages  and  ornaments  were  of  the  same 
precious  stuff. 


THE  "TOAD-WOMAN.  91 

After  a  short  time,  the  woman  heard  the  cry  of  the 
dog,  and  running  home  as  fast  as  sjie  could,  she 
found  her  child  gone,  and  the  dog  too.  On  looking 
around,  she  saw  scattered  upon  the  ground  pieces  of 
the  wampum  of  her  child's  cradle,  and  she  knew 
that  the  dog  had  been  faithful,  and  had  striven  his 
best  to  save  her  child  from  being  carried  off,  as 
he  had  been,  by  an  old  woman,  from  a  distant 
country,  called  Mukakee  Mindemoea,  or  the  Toad- 
Woman. 

The  mother  hurried  off  at  full  speed  in  pursuit, 
and  as  she  flew  along,  she  came,  from  time  to  time, 
to  lodges  inhabited  by  old  women,  who  told  her  at 
what  time  the  child-thief  had  passed  ;  they  also 
gave  her  shoes  that  she  might  follow  on.  There  was 
a  number  of  these  old  women  who  seemed  as  if  they 
were  prophetesses,  and  knew  what  was  to  corne  long 
beforehand.  Each  of  them  would  say  to  her  that 
when  she  had  arrived  at  the  next  lodge,  she  must  set 
the  toes  of  the  moccasins  they  had  given  her  point 
ing  homeward,  an^  that  they  would  return  of  them 
selves.  The  young  woman  was  very  careful  to  send 
back  in  this  manner  all  the1  shoes  she  borrowed. 

She  thus  followed  in  the  pursuit,  from  valley  to 
valley,  and  stream  to  stream,  for  many  months  and 
years  ;  when  she  came  at  length  to  the  lodge  of  the 
last  of  the  friendly  old  grandmothers,  as  they  were 
called,  who  gave  her  the  last  instructions  how  to  pro 


92  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

ceed.  She  told  her  that  she  was  near  the  place  where 
.her  son  was  to  be  found  ;  and  she  directed  her  to 
build  a  lodge  of  cedar-boughs,  hard  by  the  old 
Toad- Woman's  lodge,  and  to  make  a  little  bark 
dish,  and  to  fill  it  with  the  juice  of  the  wild  grape. 

"  Then/'  she  said,  "  your  first  child  (meaning  the 
dog)  will  come  and  find  you  out." 

These  directions  the  young  woman  followed  just  as 
they  had  been  given  to  her,  and  in  a  short  time  she 
heard  her  son,  now  grown  up,  going  out  to  hunt, 
with  his  dog,  calling  out  to  him,  "  Peewaubik — Spirit- 
Iron—Twee  !  Twee  !" 

The  dog  soon  came  into  the  lodge,  and  she  set 
before  him  the  dish  of  grape-juice. 

"  See,  my  child,"  she  said,  addressing  him,  "  the 
pretty  drink  your  mother  gives  you." 

Spirit-Iron  took  a  long  draught,  and  immediately 
left  the  lodge  with  his  eyes  wide  open ;  for  it  was 
the'  drink  which  teaches  one  to  see  the  truth  of 
things  as  they  are.  He  rose  up  when  he  got  into  the 
open  air,  stood  upon  his  hincfclegs,  and  looked  about. 
"  I  see  how  it  is,"  he  said  ;  and  marching  off,  erect 
like  a  man,  he  sought  out  his  young  master. 

Approaching  him  in  great  confidence,  ne  bent 
down  and  whispered  in  his  ear  (having  first  looked 
cautiously  around  to  see  that  no  one  was  listening), 
"  This  old  woman  here  in  the  lodge  is  no  mother  of 
yours.  I  have  found  your  real  mother,  and  she  is 


THE    TOAD-WOMAN.  93 

worth  looking  at.  When  we  come  back  from  our 
day's  sport,  111  prove  it  to  you." 

They  went  out  into  the  woods,  and  at  the  close  of 
the  afternoon  they  brought  back  a  great  spoil  of 
meat  of  all  kinds.  The  young  man,  as  soon  as  he 
had  laid  aside  his  weapons,  said  to  the  old  Toad- Wo 
man,  "  Send  some  of  the  best  of  this  meat  to  the 
stranger  who  has  arrived  lately." 

The  Toad- Woman  answered,  "  No  !  Why  should 
I  send  to  her,  the  poor  widow  !" 

The  young  man  would  not  be  refused  ;  and  at  last 
the  old  Toad- Woman  consented  to  take  something 
and  throw  it  down  at  the  door.  She  called  out, 
"  My  son  gives  you  this."  But,  being  bewitched  by 
Mukakee  Mindemoea,  it  was  so  bitter  and  distasteful, 
that  the  young  woman  immediately  cast  it  out  of  the 
lodge  after  her. 

In  the  evening  the  young  man  paid  the  stranger  a 
visit  at  her  lodge  of  cedar-boughs.  She  then  told  him 
that  she  was  his  real  mother,  and  that  he  had  been 
stolen  away  from  her  by  the  old  Toad-Woman,  who 
was  a  child-thief  and  a  witch.  As  the  young  man 
appeared  to  doubt,  she  added,  "  Feign  yourself  sick 
when  you  go  home  to  her  lodge;  and  when  the  Toad- 
Woman  asks  what  ails  you,  say  that  you  wish  to  see 
your  cradle  ;  for  your  cradle  was  of  wampum,  and 
your  faithful- brother  the  dog,  in  striving  to  save  you, 
tore  off  these  nieces  which  I  show  you." 


; 


94  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

They  were  reai  wampum,,  white  and  blue,  shining 
and  beautiful ;  and  the  young  man,  placing  them  in 
his  bosom,  set  off;  but  as  he  did  not  seem  quite, 
steady  in  his  belief  of  the  strange  woman's  story,  the 
dog  Spirit-Iron,  taking  his  arm,  kept  close  by 
his  side,  and  gave  him  many  words  of  encouragement 
as  they  went  along.  They  entered  the  lodge  to 
gether  ;  and  the  old  Toad- Woman  saw,  from  some 
thing  in  the  dog's  eye,  that  trouble  was  coming. 

"  Mother,"  said  the  young  man,  placing  his  hand 
to  his  head,  and  leaning  heavily  upon  Spirit-Iron, 
as  if  a  sudden  faintness  had  come  upon  him,  "  why 
am  I  so  different  in  looks  from  the  rest  of  your 
children  ?" 

"  Oh,"  she  answered,  "  it  was  a  very  bright,  clear 
blue  sky  when  you  were  born;  that  is  the  reason." 

He  seemed  to  be  so  very  ill  that  the  Toad- Woman 
at  length  asked  what  she  could  do  for  him.  He  said 
nothing  could  do  him  good  but  the  sight  of  his 
cradle.  She  ran  immediately  and  brought  a  cedar 
cradle;  but  he  said: 

"  That  is  not  my  cradle." 

She  went  and  got  another  of  her  own  children's 
cradles,  of  which  there  were  four;  but  he  turned  his 
head,  and  said: 

"  That  is  not  mine;  I  am  as  sick  as  ever." 

When  she  had  shown  the  four,  and  they  had  been 
all  rejected,  she  at  last  produced  the  real  cradle. 


TIT  T:    TO  AD-  WO  MAN.  95 

The  young  man  saw  that  it  was  of  the  same  stuff 
as  the  wampum  which  he  had  in  his  bosom.  He 
could  even  see  the  marks  of  the  teeth  of  Spirit-Iron 
left  upon  the  edges,  where  he  had  taken  hold;  striv 
ing  to  hold  it  back.  He  had  no  doubt,  now,  which 
was  his  mother. 

To  get  free  of  the  old  Toad- Woman,  it  was  neces 
sary  that  the  young  man  should  kill  a  fat  bear;  and, 
being  directed  by  Spirit-Iron,  who  was  very  wise  in 
such  a  matter,  he  secured  the  fattest  in  all  that 
country;  and  having  stripped  a  tall  pine  of  all  its 
bark  and  branches,  he  perched  the  carcass  in  the 
top,  with  its  head  to  the  east  and  its  tail  due  west. 
Keturning  to  the  lodge,  he  informed  the  old  Toad- 
Woman  that  the  fat  bear  was  ready  for  her,  but  that 
she  would  have  to  go  very  far,  even  to  the  end  of  the 
earth,  to  get  it.  She  answered: 

"  It  is  not  so  far  but  that  I  can  get  it;"  for  of  all 
things  in  the  world,  a  fat  bear  was  the  delight  of 
the  old  Toad- Woman. 

Sh£  at  once  set  forth;  and  she  was  no  sooner  out 
of  sight  than  the  young  man  and  his  dog,  Spirit- 
Iron,  blowing  a  strong  breath  in  the  face  of  the  Toad- 
Woman's  four  children  (who  were  all  bad  spirits,  or 
bear-fiends),  they  put  out  their  life.  They  then  set 
them  up  by  the  side  of  the  door,  having  first  thrust 
a  piece  of  the  white  fat  in  each  of  their  mouths. 

The  Toad- Woman  spent  a  long  time  in  finding 


i 


96  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

the  bear  which  she  had  been  sent  after,  and  she 
made  at  least  five  and  twenty  attempts  before  she 
was  able  to  climb  to  the  carcass.  She  slipped  down 
three  times  where  she  went  up  once.  When  she  re 
turned  with  the  great  bear  on  her  back,  as  she  drew 
near  her  lodge  she  was  astonished  to  see  the  four  chil 
dren  standing  up  by  the  door-posts  with  the  fat  in 
their  mouths.  She  was  angry  with  them,  and  called 
out: 

"  Why  do  you  thus  insult  the  pomatum  of  your 
brother?" 

She  was  still  more  angry  when  they  made  no  an 
swer  to  her  complaint;  but  when  she  found  that  they 
were  stark  dead,  and  placed  in  this  way  to  mock 
her,  her  fury  was  very  great  indeed.  She  ran  after 
f  the  tracks  of  the  young  man  and  his  mother  as  fast 
as  she  could;  so  fast,  indeed,  that  she  was  on  the 
very  point  of  overtaking  them,  when  the  dog,  Spirit- 
Iron,  coming  close  up  to  his  master,  whispered  to 
him — "  Snakeberry!" 

"  Let  the  snakeberry  spring  up  to  detain  her!" 
cried  out  the  young  man ;  and  immediately  the  ber 
ries  spread  like  scarlet  all  over  the  path,  for  a  long 
distance;  and  the  old  Toad-Woman,  who  was  almost 
as  fond  of  these  berries  as  she  was  of  fat  bears,  could 
not  avoid  stooping  down  to  pick  and  eat. 

The  old  Toad- Woman  was  very  anxious  to  get  for 
ward,  but  the  snakeberry-vines  kept  spreading  out 


THE    TOAD-WOMAN.  97 

on  every  side;  and  they  still  grow  and  grow,  and 
spread  and  spread;  and  to  this  day  the  wicked  old 
Toad- Woman  is  busy  picking  the  berries,  and  she 
will  never  be  able  to  get  beyond  to  the  other  side,  to 
disturb  the  happiness  of  the  young  hunter  and  his 
mother,  who  still  live,  with  therr  faithful  dog,  in  the 
shadow  of  the  beautiful  wood-side  where  they  were 
born. 

5 


IX. 

k 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  ROBIN. 

AN  old  man  had  an  only  son,  named  ladilla,  who 
had  come  to  that  age  which  is  thought  to  be 
most  proper  to  make  the  long  and  final  fast  which 
is  to  secure  through  life  a  guardian  genius  or  spirit. 

% 

The  father  was  ambitious  that  his  son  should  surpass 
all  others  in  whatever  was  deemed  wisest  and  great 
est  among  his  people.  To  accomplish  his  wish,  he 
thought  it  necessary  that  the  young  ladilla  should 
fast  a  much  longer  time  than  any  of  those  renowned 
for  their  power  or  wisdom,  whose  fame  he  coveted. 

He  therefore  directed  his  son  to  prepare  with  great 
ceremony  for  the  important  event.  After  he  had 
been  several  times  in  the  sweating-lodge  and  bath, 
which  were  to  prepare  and  purify  him  for  communion 
with  his  good  spirit,  he  ordered  him  to  lie  down  upon 
a  clean  mat  in  a  little  lodge  expressly  provided  for 
him.  He  enjoined  upon  him  at  the  same  time  to  en 
dure  his  fast  like  a  man,  and  promised  that  at  the 
expiration  of  twelve  days  he  should  receive  food  and 
the  blessing  of  his  father. 


THE    ORIGIN    OF    THE    ROBIN.  99 

The  lad  carefully  observed  the  command,  and  lay 
with  his  face  covered,  calmly  awaiting  the  approach 
of  the  spirit  which  was  to  decide  his  good  or  evil  for 
tune  for  all  the  days  of  his  life. 

Every  morning  his  father  came  to  the  door  of  the 
little  lodge  and  encouraged  him  to  persevere,  dwell 
ing  at  length  on  the  vast  honor  and  renown  that 
must  ever  attend  him,  should  he  accomplish  the  full 
term  of  trial  allotted  to  him. 

To  these  glowing  words  of  promise  and  glory  the 
boy  never  replied,  but  he  lay  without  the  least  sign 
of  discontent  or  murmuring  until  the  ninth  day, 
when  he  addressed  his  father  as  follows: 

"  My  father,  my  dreams  forbode  evil.  May  I 
break  my  fast  now,  and  at  a  more  favorable  time 
make  a  new  fast?" 

The  father  answered: 

"  My  son,  you  know  not  what  you  ask.  If  you  get 
up  now,  all  your  glory  will  depart.  Wait  patiently 
a  little  longer.  You  have  but  three  days  more,  and 
your  term  will  be  completed.  You  know  it  is  for 
your  own  good,  and  I  encourage  you  to  persevere. 
Shall  not  your  aged  father  live  to  see  you  a  star 
among  the  chieftains  and  the  beloved  of  battle?" 

The  son  assented;  and  covering  himself  more 
closely,  that  he  might  shut  out  the  light  which 
prompted  him  to  complain,  he  lay  till  'the  eleventh 
day,  when  he  repeated  his  request. 


100  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

The  father  addressed  ladilla  as  he  had  the  day  he- 
fore,  and  promised  that  he  would  himself  prepare  his 
first  meal,  and  hring  it  to  him  by  the  dawn  of  the 
morning. 

The  son  moaned,  and  the  father  added: 

"  Will  you  hring  shame  upon  your  father  when  his 
sun  is  falling  in  the  west?" 

"  I  will  not  shame  you,  my  father,"  replied  la 
dilla;  and  he  lay  so  still  and  motionless  that  you 
could  only  know  that  he  was  living  hy  the  gentle 
heaving  of  his  hreast. 

At  the  spring  of  day,  the  next  morning,  the  father, 
delighted  at  having  gained  his  end,  prepared  a  repast 
for  his  son,  and  hastened  to  set  it  before  him.  On 
coming  to  the  door  of  the  little  lodge,  he  was  sur 
prised  to  hear  his  son  talking  to  himself.  He  stooped 
his  ear  to  listen,  and,  looking  through  a  small  open 
ing,  he  was  yet  more  astonished  when  he  heheld  his 
son  painted  with  vermilion  over  all  his  breast,  and 
in  the  act  of  finishing  his  work  by  laying  on  the 
paint  as  far  back  on  his  shoulders  as  he  could  reach 
with  his  hands,  saying  at  the  same  time,  to  himself : 

"  My  father  has  destroyed  my  fortune  as  a  man. 
He  would  not  listen  to  iny  requests.  He  has  urged 
me  beyond  my  tender  strength.  He  will  be  the  loser. 
I  shall  be  forever  happy  in  my  new  state,  for  I  have 
been  obedient  to  my  parent.  He  alone  will  be  the 
sufferer,  for  my  guardian  spirit  is  a  just  one 


THE    ORIGIN    OF    THE    ROBIN.  101 

Though  not  propitious  to  me  in  the  manner  I  de- 
gfred,  he  has  shown  me  pity  in  another  way — he  has 
given  me  another  shape;  and  now  I  must  go." 

At  this  moment  the  old  man  broke  in,  exclaiming: 
"  My  son!  my  son!     I  pray  you  leave  me  not!" 
But  the  young  man,  with  the  quickness  of  a  bird, 
had  flown  to  the  top  of  the  lodge  and  perched  him 
self  on  the  highest  pole,  having  been  changed  into  a 
beautiful  robin  red-breast.     He  looked  down  upon 
his  father  with  pity  beaming  in  his  eyes,  and  ad 
dressed  him  as  follows: 

"  Kegret  not,  my  father,  the  change  you  behold. 
I  shall  be  happier  in  my  present  state  than  I  could 
have  been  as  a  man.  I  shall  always  be  the  friend  of 
men,  and  keep  near  their  dwellings.  I  shall  ever  be 
happy  and  contented;  and  although  I  could»not  grat 
ify  your  wishes  as  a  warrior,  it  will  be  my  daily  aim 
to  make  you  amends  for  it  as  a  harbinger  of  peace 
and  joy.  I  will  cheer  you  by  my  songs,  and  strive  to 
inspire  in  others  the  joy  and  lightsomeness  of  heart  I 
feel  in  my  present  state.  This  will  be  some  compen 
sation  to  you  foi-  the  loss  of  glory  you  expected.  I 
am  now  free  from  the  cares  and  pains  of  human  life. 
My  food  is  spontaneously  furnished  by  the  mountains 
and  fields,  and  my  pathway  of  life  is  in  the  bright  air." 
Then  stretching  himself  on  his  toes,  as  if  delighted 
with  the  gift  of  wings,  ladilla  caroled  one  of  his 
sweetest  songs,  and  flew  away  into  a  neighboring  wood. 


WHITE  FEATHER  AND  THE  SIX  GIANTS. 


was  an  old  man  living  in  the  depth  of  a 
J-  forest,  with  his  grandson,  whom  he  had  taken  in 
charge  when  quite  an  infant.  The  child  had  no 
parents,  brothers,  or  sisters  ;  they  had  all  been  de 
stroyed  by  six  large  giants,  and  he  had  been  informed 
that  he  had  no  other  relative  living  beside  his  grand 
father.  The  band  to  whom  he  had  belonged  had  put 
up  their  children  on  a  wager  in  a  race  against  those 
of  the  giants,  and  had  thus  lost  them.  There  was  an 
old  tradition  in  the  tribe,  that,  one  day,  it  would 
produce  a  great  man,  who  would  wear  a  white 
feather,  and  who  would  astonish  every  one  by  his 
feats  of  skill  and  bravery. 

The  grandfather,  as  soon  as  the  child  could  play 
about,  gave  him  a  bow  and  arrows  to  amuse  himself 
with.  He  went  into  the  edge  of  the  woods  one  day, 
and  saw  a  rabbit  ;  but  not  knowing  what  it  was,  he 
ran  home  and  described  it  to  his  grandfather.  He 
told  him  what  it  was,  that  its  flesh  was  good  to  eat, 


WHITE   FEATHER  AND  THE   SIX  GIANTS.      103 

and  that  if  he  would  shoot  one  of  his  arrows  into  its 
body  he  would  kill  it.  The  boy  went  out  again  and 
brought  home  the  little  animal,  which  he  asked  his 
grandfather  to  boil,  that  they  might  feast  on  it.  He 
humored  the  boy  in  this,  and  he  encouraged  him  to 
go  on  in  acquiring  the  knowledge  of  hunting,  until 
he  could  kill  deer  and  the  larger  kinds  of  game  ;  and 
he  became,  as  he  grew  up,  an  expert  hunter. 

As  they  lived  alone,  and  away  from  other  Indians, 
the  curiosity  of  the  stripling  was  excited  to  know 
what  was  passing  in  the  world.  One  day  he  came  to 
the  edge  of  a  prairie,  where  he  saw  ashes  like  those  at 
his  grandfather's  lodge,  and  lodge-poles  left  standing. 

He  returned,  and  inquired  whether  his  grandfather 
had  put  up  the  poles  and  made  the  fire.  He  was  an 
swered,  No.  Nor  did  he  believe  that  he  had  seen  any 
thing  of  the  kind.  He  must  have  lost  his  senses  to 
be  talking  of  such  things. 

Another  day  the  young  man  went  out  to  see  what 
there  was,  within  a  day's  hunt,  that  was  curious ;  and 
on  entering  the  woods  he  heard  a  voice  calling  out  to 
him,  "  Come  here,  you  destined  wearer  of  the  White 
Feather.  You  do  not  wear  it,  yet,  but  you  are 
worthy  of  it.  Keturn  home  and  take  a  short  nap. 
You  will  dream  of  hearing  a  voice,  which  will  tell  you 
to  rise  and  smoke.  You  will  see  in  your  dream  a 
pipe,  a  smoking-sack,  and  a  large  white  feather. 
When  you  awake  you  will  find  these  articles.  Put 


104  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

the  feather  on  your  head,  and  you  will  become  a 
great  hunter,  a  great  warrior,  and  a  great  man,  able 
to  do  any  thing.  As  a  proof  that  these  things  shall 
come  to  pass,  when  you  smoke,  the  smoke  will  turn 
into  pigeons." 

The  voice  then  informed  the  young  man  who  he  was, 
and  made,  known  the  character  of  his  grandfather, 
who  was  imposing  upon  him  to  serve  his  own  ends. 

The  voice-spirit  then  caused  a  vine  to  be  laid  at 
his  side,  and  told  him  that  he  was  now  of  an  age  to 
avenge  the  wrongs  of  his  kindred.  "  When  you  meet 
your  enemy,"  the  spirit  added,  "  you  will  run  a  race 
with  him.  He  will  not  see  the  vine,  because  it  is 
enchanted.  While  you  are  running,  you  will  throw 
it  over  his  head  and  entangle  him,  so  that  you  will 
win  the  race." 

Long  before  this  speech  was  ended  the  .young 
man  had  turned  to  the  quarter  from  which  the  voice 
proceeded,  and  he  was  astonished  to  behold  a  man  ; 
for  as  yet  he  had  never  seen  any  human  being  be 
side  his  grandfather. 

As  he  looked  more  keenly,  he  saw  that  this  man, 
who  had  the  looks  of  great  age,  was  wood  from  the 
breast  downward,  and  that  he  appeared  to  be  fixed 
in  the  earth.  As  his  eye  dwelt  apon  this  strange 
being,  the  countenance  by  degrees  faded  away,  and 
when  he  advanced  to  the  spot  whence  it  had  ad 
dressed  him,  it  was  gone. 


WHITE   FEATHER  AND   THE   SIX   GIANTS.      105 

He  returned  home  ;  slept  ;  in  the  midst  of  his 
slumbers,  as  fro^m  the  hollow  of  the  air,  heard  the 
voice  ;  wakened  and  found  the  promised  gifts.  His 
grandfather,  when  his  attention  was  called  to  his 
awakening,  was  greatly  surprised  to  find  the  youth 
with  a  white  feather  on  his  forehead,  and  to  see  flocks 
of  pigeons  flying  out  of  his  lodge.  He  then  remem 
bered  the  old  tradition,  and  knowing  that  now  the 
day  when  he  should  lose  control  of  his  charge  had 
begun,  he  bitterly  bewailed  the  hour. 

Possessed  of  his  three  magic  gifts,  the  young  man 
departed  the  next  morning,  to  seek  his  enemies,  and 
to  demand  revenge. 

The  six  giants  lived  in  a  very  high  lodge  in  the 
middle  of  a  wood.  He  traveled  on,  in  good  heart, 
till  he  reached  this  lodge,  where  he  found  that  his 
coming  had  been  made  known  by  the  little  spirits 
who  carry  the  news.  The  giants  hastened  out,  and 
gave  a  cry  of  joy  as  they  saw  him  drawing  near. 
When  he  approached  within  hail,  they  began  to  make 
sport  of  him,  saying,  "Here  comes  the  little  man 
with  the  white  feather,  who  is  to  achieve  such  wonder 
ful  wonders." 

When,  however,  he  had  arrived  among  them,  they 
spoke  him  fair,  saying  he  was  a  brave  man  and 
would  do  brave  things.  Their  object  was  to  encour 
age  him,  so  that  he  would  be  bold  to  engage  in  some 
fool-hardy  trial  of  strength. 

5* 


106  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

* 

Without  paying  much  heed  to  their  fine  speeches, 
White  Feather  went  fearlessly  into  their  lodge  ;  and 
without  waiting  for  invitation,  he  challenged  them  to 
a  foot-match.  They  agreed  ;  and,  as  they  said,  by 
way  of  being  easy  with  him,  they  told  him  to  begin 
the  race  with  the  smallest  of  their  number. 

The  point  to  which  they  were  to  run  was  a  peeled 
tree  toward  the  rising  sun,  and  then  back  to  the 
starting-place,  which  was  a  war-club  of  iron.  Who 
ever  won  this  stake,  was  empowered  to  use  it  in  dis 
patching  the  defeated  champion.  If  White  Feather 
should  overcome  the  first  giant,  he  was  to  try  the 
second,  and  so  on,  until  they  had  all  measured  speed 
with  him.  By  a  dexterous  use  of  the  vine,  he  gained 
the  first  race,  struck  down  his  competitor,  and  cut  off 
his  head. 

The  next  morning  he  ran  with  the  second  giant, 
whom  he  also  outran,  killed  and  beheaded. 

He  went  on  in  this  way  for  the  five  mornings,  al 
ways  conquering  by  the  aid  of  his  vine,  and  lopping 
off  the  heads  of  the  vanquished  giants. 

The  last  of  the  giants  who  was  yet  to  run  with 
him  acknowledged  'his  power,  but  prepared  secretly 
to  deceive  him.  By  way  of  parley,  he  proposed  that 
White  Feather  should  leave  the  heads  with  him,  and 
that  he  would  give  him  a  handsome  start  for  odds. 
This  White  Feather  declined,  as  he  preferred  to 
keep  the  heads  as  trophies  of  his  victory. 


WHITE   FEATHER   AND    THE    SIX    GIANTS.      107 

Before  going  to  the  giant's  lodge,  on  the  sixth 
morning,  he  met  his  old  counselor  in  the  woods, 
standing  rooted  in  the  earth,* as  befbre.  He  told 
White  Feather  that  he  was  about  to  be  deceived; 
that  he  had  never  known  any  other  sex  but  his  own, 
but  that  as  he  went  on  his  way  to  the  lodge  he  would 
meet  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world.  He 
must  pay  no  attention  to  her,  but  as  soon  as  he 
caught  her  eye  he  must  wish  himself  changed  into  an 
elk.  The  change  would  take  place  immediately,  and 
he  must  go  to  feeding  and  not  look  at  her  again. 

White  Feather  thanked  his  kind  adviser,  and  when 
he  turned  to  take  his  leave  he  was  gone  as  before. 

He  proceeded  toward  the  lodge,  met  the  female  as 
had  been  foretold  to  him,  and  became  an  elk.  She 
reproached  him  that  he  had  cast  aside  the  form  of  a 
man  that  he  might  avoid  her. 

"  I  have  traveled  a  great  distance,"  she  added, 
"to  see  you  and  to  become  your  wife;  for  I  have 
heard  of  your  great  achievements,  and  admire  you 
very  much." 

Now  this  woman  was  the  sixth  giant,  who  had  as 
sumed  this  disguise  to  entrap  White  Feather. 

Without  a  suspicion  of  her  real  character,  her  re 
proaches  and  her  beauty  affected  him  so  deeply  that 
he  wished  himself  a  man  again,  and  he  at  once  re 
sumed  his  natural  shape.  They  sat  down  together, 
and  he  began  to  caress  and  to  make  love  to  her. 


108  THE    INDIAN    FAIKY    BOOK. 

Soothed  by  her  smiles  and  her  gracious  manners, 
he  ventured  to  lay  his  head  on  her  lap,  and  in  a  little 
while  he  fell  into  a  deep  slumber. 

Even  then,  such  was  her  fear  of  White  Feather, 
she  doubted  whether  his  sleep  might  not  be  feigned. 
To  assure  herself  she  pushed  his  head  aside,  and  see 
ing  that  *he  remained  unconscious,  she  quickly  as 
sumed  her  own  form  as  the  sixth  giant,  took  the 
plume  from  the  brow  of  White  Feather  and  placed 
it  upon  his  own  head,  and  with  a  sudden  blow  of  his 
war-club  changed  him  into  a  dog,  in  which  degraded 
form  he  followed  his  enemy  to  the  lodge. 

While  these  things  were  passing,  there  were  living 
in  an  Indian  village  at  some  distance,  two  sisters, 
the  daughters  of  a  chief,  who  were  rivals,  and  they 
were  at  that  very  time  fasting  to  acquire  power,  for 
the  purpose  of  enticing  the  wearer  of  the  white 
feather  to  visit  their  lodge.  They  each  secretly  hoped 
to  engage  his  affections,  and  each  had  built  a  lodge 
in  the  border  of  the  village  encampment. 

The  giant  knowing  this,  and  having  become  pos 
sessed  of  the  magic  plume,  went  immediately  to  visit 
them.  As  he  approached,  the  sisters,  who  were  on 
the  look-out  at  their  lodge-doors,  espied  and  recog 
nized  the  feather. 

The  eldest  sister  had  prepared  her  lodge  with  great 
show,  and  all  the  finery  she  could  command,  so  as  to 


WHITE   FEATHER    AND   THE   SIX   GIANTS.      109 

attract  the  eye.  The  youngest  touched  nothing  in 
her  lodge,  but  left  it  in  its  ordinary  state. 

The  eldest  went  out  to  meet  the  giant,  and  invited 
him  in.  He  accepted  her  invitation,  and  made  her 
his  wife.  The  youngest  sister  invited  the^enchanted 
dog  into  her  lodge,  prepared  him  a  good  supper  and 
a  neat  bed,  and  treated  him  with  much  attention. 

The  giant,  supposing  that  whoever  possessed  the 
white  feather  possessed  also  all  its  virtues,  went  out 
upon  the  prairie  to1  hunt,  hallooing  aloud  to  the 
game  to  come  and  be  killed;  but  the  great  hubbub 
he  kept  up  scared  them  away,  and  he  returned  at 
night  with  nothing  but  himself;  for  he  had  shouted 
so  lustily  all  day  long  that  he  had  been  even  obliged 
to  leave  the  mighty  halloo,  with  which  he  had  set 
out,  behind. 

The  dog  went  out  the  same  day  hunting  upon  the 
banks  of  a  river.  He  stole  quietly  along  to  the  spot, 
and  stepping  into  the  water  he  drew  out  a  stone, 
which  instantly  became  a  beaver. 

The  next  day  the  giant  followed  the  dog,  and  hid 
ing  behind  a  tree,  he  watched  the  manner  in  which 
the  dog  hunted  in  the  river  when  he  drew  out  a 
stone,  which  at  once  turned  into  a  beaver. 

"  Ah,  ha!"  said  the  giant  to  himself,  "  I  will  catch 
some  beaver  for  myself." 

And  as  soon  as  the  dog  had  left  the  place,  the 
giant  went  to  the  river,  and,  imitating  the  dog,  he 


110  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

drew  out  a  stone,  and  was  delighted  to  see  it,  as  soon 
as  it  touched  the  land,  change  into  a  fine  fat  beaver. 

Tying  it  to  his  belt  he  hastened  home,  shouting  a 
good  deal,  and  brandishing  the  white  feather  about, 
as  if  he  were  prepared  now  to  show  them  what  he 
could  do  when  he  once  tried.  When  he  reached 
home  he  threw  it  down,  as  is  the  custom,  at  the  door 
of  the  lodge  before  he  entered. 

After  being  seated  a  short  time,  he  gave  a  dry 
cough,  and  bade  his  wife  bring  in  his  hunting  girdle 
She  made  dispatch  to  obey  him,  and  presently  re 
turned  with  the  girdle,  with  nothing  tied  to  it  but  a 
stone. 

The  next  day,  the  dog  finding  that,  his  method  of 
catching  beavers  had  been  discovered,  went  to  a 
wood  at  some  distance,  and  broke  off  a  charred  limb 
from  a  burned  tree,  which  instantly  became  a  bear. 
The  giant,  who  appeared  to  have  lost  faith  in  his 
hulla-balooing,  had  again  watched  him,  did  exactly 
as  the  dog  had  done,  and  carried  a  bear  home  ;  but 
his  wife,  when  she  came  to  go  out  for  it,  found  noth 
ing  but  a  black  stick  tied  to  his  belt. 

And  so  it  happened  with  every  thing.  Whatever 
the  dog  undertook,  prospered  ;  whatever  the  giant 
attempted,  failed.  Every  day  the  youngest  sister 
had  reason  to  be  more  proud  of  the  poor  dog  she  had 
asked  into  her  lodge,  and  every  day  the  eldest  sister 
was  made  more  aware,  that  though  she  had  married 


WHITE   FEATHER  AND   THE   SIX   GIANTS.      Ill 

the  white  feather,  the  virtues  of  the  magic  plume 
were  not  the  personal  property  of  the  noisy  giant. 

At  last  the  giant's  wife  determined  that  she  would 
go  to  her  father  and  make  known  to  him  what  a  valu- 
ahle  husband  she  had,  and  how  he  furnished  her 
lodge  with  a  great  abundance  of  sticks  and  stones, 
which  he  would  pass  upon  her  for  bear  and  beaver. 
So,  when  her  husband,,  whose  brave  halloo  had  now 
died  away  to  a  feeble  chirp,  had  started  for  the  hunt, 
she  set  out. 

As  soon  as  these  two  had  gone  away  from  the 
neighborhood,  the  dog  made  signs  to  his  mistress  to 
sweat  him  after  the  manner  of  the  Indians.  He 
had  always  been  a  good  dog,  and  she  was  willing  to 
oblige  him.  She  accordingly  made  a  lodge  just  large 
enough  for  him  to  creep  in.  She  then  put  in  heated 
stones,  and  poured  water  upon  them,  which  raised  a 
vapor  that  filled  the  lodge  and  searched  with  its 
warmth  to  the  very  heart's  core  of  the  enchanted 
dog. 

When  this  had  been  kept  up  for  the  customary 
time,  the  enchanted  dog  was  completely  sweated 
away,  and  in  his  stead,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
out  came  a  very  handsome  young  man,  but, -unhap 
pily,  without  the  power  of  speech.  In  taking  away 
the  dog,  it  appears  that  the  sweating-lodge  had -also 
carried  off  the  voice  with  it. 

Meantime- the  elder  sister  had  reached  her  father's, 


112  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

and,  with  much  circumstance  and  a  very  long  face, 
had  told  him  how  that  her  sister  was  supporting  an 
idle  dog,  and  entertaining  him  as  her  husband.  In 
her  anxiety  to  make  known  her  sister's  affairs  and  the 
great  scandal  she  was  bringing  upon  the  family,  the 
eldest  forgot  to  say  any  thing  of  the  sticks  and  stones 
which  her  own  husband  brought  home  for  bears  and 
beavers.  The  old  man  suspecting  that  there  was 
magic  about  her  house,  sent  a  deputation  of  young 
men  and  women  to  ask  his  youngest  daughter  to 
come  to  him,  and  to  bring  her  dog  along  with  her. 
When  the  deputation  reached  the  lodge,  they  were 
surprised  to  find,  in  the  place  of  the  dog,  a  fine 
young  man  ;  and  on  announcing  their  message,  they 
all  returned  to  the  old  chief,  who  was  no  less  surprised 
at  the  change. 

He  immediately  assembled  all  the  old  and  wise 
heads  of  the  nation  to  come  and  be  witnesses  to  the 
exploits  which  it  was  reported  that  the  young  man 
could  perform.  The  sixth  giant,  although  neither 
very  old  nor  very  wise,  thrust  himself  in  among  the 
relations  of  the  old  chief. 

When  they  were  all  assembled  and  seated  in  a  cir 
cle,  the  old  chief  took  his  pipe  and  filled  it,  and 
passed  it  to  the  Indians  around,  to  see  if  any  thing 
would  happen  when  they  smoked.  They  passed  it  on 
until  it  came  around  to  the  Dog,  who  made  a  sign 
that  it  should  be  handed  first  to  the  giant,  which  wag 


WHITE   FEATHER   AND   THE   SIX    GIANTS.      113 

done.  And  the  giant  puffed  with  all  his  might,  and 
shook  the  white  feather  upon  his  head,  and  swelled 
his  chest ;  but  nothing  came  of  it,  except  a  great 
deal  of  smoke.  The  Dog  then  took  it  himself.  He 
made  a  sign  to  them  to  put  the  white  feather  upon 
his  head.  This  was  no  sooner  done,  than  he  recov 
ered  his  speech,  and,  beginning  to  draw  upon  the  pipe 
at  the  same  moment,  behold,  immense  flocks  of  white 
and  blue  pigeons  rushed  from  the  smoke. 

From  that  moment  the  sixth  giant  was  looked 
upon  as  an  impostor,  and  as  soon  as  White  Feather 
had,  at  the  request  of  the  company,  faithfully  re 
counted  his  history,  the  old  chief,  who  was  one  of  the 
best-hearted  magicians  that  ever  lived,  ordered  that 
the  giant  should  be  transformed  into  a  dog,  and 
turned  into  the  middle  of  the  village,  where  the  boys 
should  pelt  him  to  death  with  clubs  ;  which  being 
done,  the  whole  six  giants  were  at  an  end,  and  never 
troubled  that  neighborhood  again,  forever  after. 

The  chief  then  gave  out  a  command,  at  the  re 
quest  of  White  Feather,  that  all  the  young  men 
should  employ  themselves  four  days  in  making  ar 
rows.  White  Feather  also  asked  for  a  buffalo  robe. 
This  he  cut  into  thin  shreds,  and  in  the  night,  when 
no  one  knew  of  it,  he  went  and  sowed  them  about 
the  prairie  in  every  direction. 

At  the  end  of  the  four  days,  he  invited  them  to 
gather  together  all  of  their  arrows,  and  to  accom- 


114  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

pany  him  to  a  buffalo  hunt.  When  they  got  put 
upon  the  prairie,  they  found  it  covered  with  a  great 
herd  of  buffaloes.  Of  these  they  killed  as  many  as 
they  pleased,  and,  afterward,  they  had  a  grand  fes 
tival  in  honor  of  White  Feather's  triumph  over  the 
giants. 

All  this  being  pleasantly  over,  White  Feather  got 
.his  wife  to  ask  her  father's  permission  to  go  with  him 
on  a  visit  to  his  grandfather.  The  old  chief  replied 
to  this  application,  that  a  woman  must  follow  her 
husband  into  whatever  quarter  of  the  world  he  may 
choose  to  go. 

Bidding  farewell  to  all  his  friends,  White  Feather 
placed  the  plume  in  his  frontlet,  and  taking  his  war- 
club  in  his  hand,  he  led  the  way  into  the  forest,  fol 
lowed  by  his  faithful  wife. 


XL 

• 

SHEEM,  THE  FORSAKEN  BOY. 

ON  a  certain  afternoon  the  sun  was  falling  in  the 
West,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  ruddy  silence  a 
solitary  lodge  stood  on  the  banks  of  a  remote  lake. 
One  sound  only  broke,  in  the  least  degree,  the  forest 
stillness — the  low  breathing  of  the  dying  inmate,  who 
was  the  head  of  a  poor  family.  His  wife  and  chil 
dren  surrounded  the  buffalo  robe  on  which  he  lay. 
Of  the  children,  two  were  almost  grown  up — a  daugh 
ter  and  a  son  ;  the  other  was  a  boy,  and  a  mere  child 
in  years. 

All  the  skill  of  the  household  in  their  simple 
medicines  was  exhausted,  and  they  stood  looking  on 
or  moved  about  the  lodge  with  whispered  steps, 
awaiting  the  departure  of  the  spirit.  As  one  of  •  the 
last  acts  of  kindness,  the  skin  door  of  the  lodge  had 
been  thrown  back  to  admit  the  fresh  air  of  the  even 
ing.  The  poor  man  felt  a  momentary  return  of 
strength,  and  raising  himself  a  little,  he  addressed 
his  family 


116  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"I  leave  you/'  he  said,  "in  a  world  of  care,  in  which 
it  has  required  all  my  strength  and  skill  to  supply 
you  food,  and  to  protect  you  from  the  storms  and 
cold  of  a  harsh  climate." 

He  cast  his  eyes  upon  his  wife,  and  continued  r 
"  For  you,  my  partner  in  life,  I  have  less  sorrow, 
because  I  am  persuaded  you  jvill  not  .remain  long  be 
hind  me  ;  but  you,  my  children  !  my  poor  and  forsak 
en  children,  who  have  just  begun  the  career  of  life, 
who  will  shelter  you  from  calamity  ?  Listen  to  ray 
words.  Unkindness,  ingratitude,  and  every  wicked 
ness,  are  in  the  scene  before  you.  It  was  for  this 
that  years  ago  I  withdrew  from  my  kindred  and  my 
tribe  to  spend  my  days  in  this  lonely  spot.  I  have 
contented  myself  with  the  company  of  your  mother 
and  yourselves,  during  seasons  of  very  frequent  scarc 
ity  and  want,  while  your  kindred,  feasting  in  plenty, 
have  caused  the  forests  to  echo  with  the  shouts  of 
successful  war.  I  gave  up  these  things  for  the  enjoy 
ment  of  peace.  I  wished  to  hide  you  away  from  the 
bad  examples  which  would  have  spoiled  your  inno 
cence.  I  have  seen  you,  thus  far,  grow  up  in  purity 
of  heart.  If  we  have  sometimes  suffered  bodily  want, 
we  have  escaped  pain  of  mind.  We  have  not  been 
compelled  to  look  on  or  to  take  a  part  with  the  red 
hand  in  scenes  of  rioting  and  bloodshed.  My  path 
now  stops.  I  have  arrived  at  the  brink  of  the  world. 
I  will  shut  nay  eyes  in  peace  if  you,  my  children,  will 


SHE  EM*,    THE    FORSAKEN    BOY.  11 T 

promise  me  to  cherish  each  other.  Let  not  your 
mother  suffer  during  the  few  days  tlmt  are  left  to 
her ;  and  I  charge  you,  on  no  account,  to  forsake 
your  younger  brother.  Of  him  I  give  you  both  my 
dying  command  to  have  a  tender  care." 

He  spoke  no  more,  and  as  the  sun  fell  out  of  view 
the  light  had  gone  from  his  face.  The  family  stood 
still,  as  if  they  expected  to  hear  something  further ; 
but  when  they  came  to  his  side  and  called  him  by 
name,  his  spirit  did  not  answer.  It  was  in  another 
world. 

The  mother  and  daughter  lamented  aloud,  but  the 
elder  son  clothed  himself  in  silence,  as  though  it  had 
been  a  mantle,  and  took  his  course  as. though  nothing 
had  occurred.  He  exerted  himself  to  supply,  with 
his  bow  and  net,  the  wants  of  the  little  household, 
but  he  never  made  mention  of  his  father. 

Five  moons  had  filled  and  waned,  and  the  sixth 
was  near  its  full,  when  the  mother  also  died.  In  her 
last  moments  she  pressed  the  fulfillment  of  their  fa 
ther's  wish. 

The  winter  passed,  and  the  spring,  sparkling  in  the 
clear  northern  air,  cheered  the  spirits  of  the  lonely 
little  people  in  the  lodge. 

The  girl,  being  the  eldest,  directed  her  brothers, 
and  she  seemed  to  feel  a  tender  and  sisterly  affection 
for  the  youngest,  who  was  slight  in  frame  and  of  a 
delicate  temper.  The  other  boy  soon  began  to  break 


118  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

forth  with  restless  speeches,  which  showed  that  his 
spirit  was  not»at  ease.  One  day  he  addressed  his  sis 
ter  as  follows : 

"  My  sister,  are  we  always  to  live  as  if  there  were 
no  other  human  beings  in  the  world  ?  Must  I  de 
prive  myself  of  the  pleasure  of  mingling  with  my  own 
kind  ?  I  have  determined  this  question  for  myself. 
I  shall  seek  the  villages  of  men,  and  you  can  not  pre 
vent  me." 

The  sister  replied : 

"  I  do  not  say  no,  my  brother,  to  what  you  desire; 
we  are  not  forbidden  the  society  of  our  fellow-mor 
tals,  but  we  are  told  to  cherish  each  other,  and  to  do 
nothing  that  shall  not  be  agreeable  to  all  our  little 
household.  Neither  pleasure  nor  pain  ought,  there 
fore,  to  separate  us,  especially  from  our  younger 
brother,  who,  being  but  a  child,  and  weakly  withal, 
is  entitled  to  a  double  share  of  our  affection.  If  we 
follow  our  separate  fancies,  it  will  surely  make  us 
neglect  him,  whom  we  are  bound  by  vows,  both  to 
our  father  and  mother,  to  support." 

The  young  man  received  this  address  in  silence, 
and  still  took  his  course  as  though  nothing  out  of  the 
ordinary  way  had  occurred.  After  awhile  he  seemed 
to  recover  his  spirits;  and  as  they  lived  in  a  large 
country,  where  there  were  open  fields,  the  two  broth 
ers,  at  his  invitation,  often  amused  themselves  in 
playing  ball.  One  afternoon  he  chose  the  ground 


SHEEM,    THE    FORSAKEN    BOY.  119 

near  to  a  beautiful  lake,  and  they  played  and  laughed 
with  great  spirit,  and  the  ball  was  seldom  allowed  to 
touch  the  ground. 

Now  in  this  lake  there  happened  to  harbor  a  wicked 
old  Manito,  Mishosha  by  name,  who  looked  at  the 
brothers  as  they  played,  and  he  was  vastly  pleased 
with  their  nimbleness  and  beauty.  He  thought  to 
himself,  what  shall  I  do  to  get  these  lads  to  accom 
pany  me  ?  One  of  them  shall  hit  the  ball  sideways, 
and  it  shall  fall  into  my  canoe. 

It  so  happened,  and  it  somehow  seemed  as  if 
Owasso,  the  elder  brother,  had  purposely  given  it 
"that  direction.  When  Owasso  saw  the  old  man,  he 
professed  to  be  greatly  surprised,  as  was  the  other, 
Sheem  by  name,  in  truth,  for  he  had  not  noticed  the 
old  Manito  before. 

"  Bring  the  ball  to  us,"  they  both  cried  out. 
"  Come  to  the  shore." 

"  No,"  answered  the  old  magician.  He,  however, 
came  near  enough  for  either  of  them  to  wade  out  to 
him.  "  Come,  come,"  he  said.  "  Come  and  get 
your  ball." 

They  insisted  that  he  should  come  ashore,  but  he 
sturdily  declined  to  oblige  them. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Owasso,  "  I  will  go  and  get  it." 
And  he  ran  into  the  water.  "  Hand  it  to  me","  he 
said,  when  he  had  approached  near  enough  to  re- 
reive  it. 


120  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"Ha!"  answered  the  Manito,  "reach  over  and  get 
it  yourself." 

Owasso  was  about  to  grasp  the  ball,  when  the  old 
magician  suddenly  seized  him  and  pushed  him  into 
the  boat. 

"  My  grandfathe*,"  said  Owasso,  "  pray  take  nay 
little  brother  also.  Alone  I  can  not  go  with  you;  he 
will  starve  if  I  leave  him." 

Mishosha  only  laughed  at  him  ;  then  uttering  the 
charmed  words,  "  Chemaun  Poll !"  and  giving  his 
canoe  a  slap,  it  glided  through  the  water,  without 
further  help,  with  the  swiftness  of  an  arrow. 

In  a  short  time  they  reached  the  magician's  lodge, 
which  stood  upon  the  further  shore,  a  little  distance 
back  from  the  lake.  The  two  daughters  of  Mishosha 
were  seated  within.  "  My  daughter,"  he  said  to  his 
eldest,  as  they  entered  the  lodge,  "  I  have  brought 
you  a  husband." 

The  young  woman  smiled ;  for  Owasso  was  a 
comely  youth  to  look  upon.  The  magician  told  him 
to  take  his  seat  near  her,  and  by  this  act  the  mar 
riage  ceremony  was  completed,  and  Owasso  and  the 
magician's  daughter  were  man  and  wife,  and  in  the 
course  of  time  they  had  born  to  them  a  son. 

But  no  sooner  was  Owasso  in  the  family  than  the 
old  Manito  wished  him  out  of  the  way,  and  he  went 
about  in  his  own  wicked  fashion  to  compass  it. 

One  day  he  asked  his  son-in-law  to  go  out  a-fish- 


SHE  EM,    THE    FORSAKEN    BOY.  121 

ing  with  him.  They  started  without  delay  ;  for  the 
magician  had  only  to  speak,  and  off  went  the  canoe. 
They  reached  a  solitary  bay  in  an  island,  a  very  dark, 
lonely,  and  out-of-the-way  place.  The  Manito  ad 
vised  Owasso  to  spear  a  large  sturgeon  which  came 
alongside,  and  with  its  great  glassy  eye  turned  up, 
seemed  to  recognize  the  magician.  Owasso  rose  in 
the  boat  to  dart  his  spear,  and  by  speaking  that  mo 
ment  to  his  canoe.  Mishosha  shot  forward  and  hurled 
his  son-in-law  headlong  into  the  water  ;  where,  leav 
ing  him  to  struggle  for  himself,  he  was  soon  out  of 
sight. 

Owasso,  being  himself  gifted  with  limited  magical 
powers,  spoke  to  the  fish,  and  bade  him  swim  toward 
the  lodge,  while  he  carried  him  along,  which  he  did 
at  great  speed.  Once  he  directed  the  sturgeon  to  rise 
near  the  surface  of  the  water,  so  that  he  might,  if 
possible,  get  a  view  of  the  magician.  The  fish 
obeyed,  and  Owasso  saw  the  wicked  old  Manito  busy 
in  another  direction,  fishing,  as  unconcerned  as 
though  he  had  not  just  lost  a  member  of  his 
family.  . 

On  went  the  fish,  and  on  went  Owasso,  till  they 
reached  the  shore,  near  the  magician's  lodge,  in  ad 
vance  of  him.  He  then  spoke  kindly  to  the  stur 
geon,  and  told  him  he  should  not  be  angry  with  him 
for  having  speared  him,  as  he  was  created  to  be  meat 
for  man.  The  sturgeon  made  no  reply,  or  if  he  did, 

6 


122  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

it  has  not  been  reported  ;  and  Owasso,  drawing  him 
on  shore,  went  up  and  told  his  wife  to  dress  and  cook 
it  immediately.  By  the  time  it  was  prepared  the 
magician  had  come  in  sight. 

"  Your  grandfather  has  arrived,"  said  the  woman 
to  her  son  ;  "go  and  see  what  he  brings,  and  eat  this 
as  you  go  " — handing  a  piece  of  the  fish. 

The  boy  went,  and  the  magician  no  sooner  saw 
him  with  the  fish  in  his  hand,  than  he  asked  him, 
"  \Vhat  are  you  eating  ?  and  who  brought  it  ?" 

He  replied,  "  My  father  brought  it." 

The  magician  began  to  feel  uneasy,  for  he  found 
that  he  had  been  outwitted  ;  he,  however,  put  on  a 
grave  face,  and  entering  the  lodge,  acted  as  if  nothing 
unusual  had  happened. 

Some  days  after  this,  Mishosha  again  requested  his 
son-in-law  to  accompany  him  ;  and  Owasso,  without 
hesitation,  said  "  Yes  !" 

They  went  out,  and,  in  a  rapid  passage,  they  ar 
rived  at  a  solitary  island,  which  was  no  more  than  a 
heap  of  high  and  craggy  rocks. 

The  magician  said  to  Owasso,  "Go  on  shore,  my 
son,  and  pick  up  all  the  gulls'  eggs  you  can  find." 

The  rocks  were  strewn  with  eggs,  and  the  air  re 
sounded  with  the  cry  of  the  birds  as  they  saw  them 
gathered  up  by  Owasso. 

The  old  magician  took  the  opportunity  to  speak  to 
the  gulls.  "  I  have  long  wished,"  he  said,  "  to  offer 


SHE  EM,    THE    FOKSAKEN    BOY.  123 

you  something.  I  now  give  you  this  young  man  for 
food." 

He  then  uttered  the  charm  to  his  canoe,  and  it  shot 
out  of  sight,  leaving  Owasso  to  make  his  peace  the 
best  way  he  could. 

The  gulls  flew  in  immense  numbers  around  him, 
and  were  ready  to  devour  him.  Owasso  did  not  lose 
his  presence  of  mind,  but  he  addressed  them  and  said  : 

"  Gulls,  you  know  you  were  not  formed  to  eat  hu 
man  flesh,  nor  was  man  made  to  be  the  prey  of  birds. 
Obey  my  words.  Fly  close  together,  a  sufficient 
number  of  you,  and  carry  me  on  your  backs  to  the 
magician's  lodge." 

They  listened  attentively  to  what  he  said,  and  see 
ing  nothing  unreasonable  in  his  request,  they  obeyed 
him,  and  Owasso  soon  found  himself  sailing  through 
the  air  swiftly  homeward. 

Meanwhile,  it  appears  that  the  old  magician  had 
fallen  asleep  and  allowed  his  canoe  to  come  to  a 
stand-still;  for  Owasso,  in  his  flight  over  the  lake, 
saw  him  lying  on  his  back  in  the  boat,  taking  a  nap, 
which  was  quite  natural,  as  the  day  was  very  soft  and 
balmy. 

As  Owasso,  with  his  convoy  of  birds,  passed  over, 
he  let  fall,  directly  in  the  face  of  the  old  magician,  a 
capful  of  gulls'  eggs,  which  broke  and  so  besmeared 
his  eyes  that  he  could  barely  see.  He  jumped  up  and 
exclaimed : 


124  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"  It  is  always  so  with  these  thoughtless  birds. 
They  never  consider  where  they  drop  their  eggs." 

Owasso  had  flown  on  and  reached  the  lodge  in 
safety,  and,  excusing  himself  for  the  liberty,  he 
killed  two  or  three  of  the  gulls  for  the  sake  of  their 
feathers  to  ornament  his  son's  head. 

When  the  magician  arrived,  soon  after,  his  grand 
son  came  out  to  meet  him,  tossing  his  head  about  as 
the  feathers  danced  and  struggled  with  the  wind. 

"  Where  did  you  get  these  ?"  asked  the  Manito, 
"  and  who  brought  them  ?" 

"  My  father  brought  them/'  the  boy  replied. 

The  old  magician  was  quite  distressed  in  his  mind 
that  he  had  not  destroyed  his  son-in-law.  He  en 
tered  his  lodge  in  silence,  and  set  his  wits  busily  at 
work  again  to  contrive  some  plan  for  easing  his  feel 
ings  in  that  respect. 

He  could  not  help  saying  to  himself : 

"  What  manner  of  boy  is  this  who  is  ever  escaping 
from  my  power  ?  But  his  guardian  spirit  shall  not 
save  him.  I  will  entrap  him  to-morrow.  Ha,  ha, 
ha!" 

He  was  painfully  aware  that  he  had  tried  two  of 
his  charms  without  effect,  and  that  he  had  but  two 
more  left.  He  now  professed  to  be  more  friendly 
with  his  son-in-law  than  ever,  and  the  very  next  day 
he  said  to  Owasso  : 

"  Come,  my  son,  you  must  go  with  me  to  procure 


SHE  EM,    THE    FORSAKEN    BOY.  125 

jsome  young  eagles.  We  will  tame  them;  and  have 
them  for  pets  about  the  lodge.  I  have  discovered 
an  islan  I  where  they  are  in  great  abundance." 

They  started  on  the  trip,  and  when,  after  traversing 
an  immense  waste  of  water,  they  had  reached  the 
island,  Mishosha  led  him  inland  until  they  came  to 
the  foot  of  a  tall  pine-tree,  upon  which  the  nests 
were  to  be  found. 

"  Now,  my  son,"  said  Mishosha,  "  climb  up  this 
tree  and  bring  down  the  birds.  I  think  you  will  get 
some  fine  ones  up  there." 

Owasso  obeyed.  When  he  had  with  great  diffi 
culty  got  near  the  nest,  Mishosha  cried  out,  address 
ing  himself  to  the  tree,  and  without  much  regard  to 
the  wishes  of  Owasso  : 

"  Now  stretch  yourself  up  and  be  very  tall." 

The  tree,  at  this  bidding,  rose  up  so  far  that 
Owasso  would  have  imperiled  his  neck  by  any  at 
tempt  to  get  to  the  ground. 

"  Listen,  ye  eagles  !"  continued  Mishosha.  "  You 
have  long  expected  a  gift  from  me.  I  now  present 
you  this  boy,  who  has  had  the  presumption  to  climb 
up  where  you  are  to  molest  your  young.  Stretch 
forth  your  claws  and  seize  him." 

So  saying,  the  old  magician,  according  to  his  cus 
tom  in  such  cases,  turned  his  back  upon  Owasso, 
and  going  off  in  his  canoe  at  a  word;  he  left  his  son- 
in-law  to  shift  for  himself. 


126  THE    INDIAN     FAIRY    BOOK. 

Bat  the  birds  did  not  seein  to  be  so  badly-minded 
as  the  old  magician  had  supposed  ;  for  a  very  old 
bald  eagle,  quite  corpulent  and  large  of  limb,  alight 
ing  on  a  branch  just  opposite,  opened  conversation 
with  him  by  asking  what  had  brought  him  there. 

Owasso  replied  that  he  had  not  mounted  the  tree 
of  himself,  or  out  of  any  disposition  to  harm  his  peo 
ple;  that  his  father-in-law,  the  old  magician  who 
had  just  left  them,  had  sent  him  up;  that  he  was 
constantly  sending  him  on  mischievous  errands.  In 
a  word,  the  young  man  was  enlarging  at  great 
length  upon  the  character  of  the  wicked  Manito, 
when  he  was  interrupted  by  being  darted  upon  by  a 
hungry-eyed  bird,  with  long  claws. 

Owasso,  not  in  the  least  disconcerted,  boldly  seized 
this  fierce  eagle  by  the  neck  and  dashed  it  against 
the  rocks,  crying  out : 

"  Thus  will  I  deal  with  all  who  come  near  me." 

The  old  eagle,  who  appeared  to  be  the  head  of  the 
tribe,  was  so  pleased  with  this  show  of  spirit  that 
he  immediately  appointed  two  tall  birds,  uncommonly 
strong  in  the  wings,  to  transport  Owasso  to  his  lodge. 
They  were  to  take  turns  in  conducting  him  through 
the  air. 

Owasso  expressed  many  obligations  to  the  old  eagle 
for  his  kindness,  and  they  forthwith  set  out.  It  was 
a  high  point  from  which  they  started,  for  the  pine- 
tree  had  shot  far,  far  up  toward  the  clouds,  and  they 


SHEEM,     THE    FORSAKEN    EOT.  127 

could  even  descry  the  enchanted  island  where  the  oLl 
magician  lived  ;  though  it  was  miles  and  miles  away. 
For  this  point  they  steered  their  flight  ;  and  in  a 
short  time  they  landed  Owasso  at  the  door  of  the 
lodge. 

With  many  compliments  for  their  dispatch,  Owasso 
dismissed  the  "birds,  and  stood  ready  to  greet  his 
wicked  father-in-law  who  now  arrived  ;  and  when  he 
espied  his  son-in-law  still  unharmed,  Mishosha  grew 
very  black  in  the  face.  He  had  but  a  single  charm 
left. 

He  thought  he  would  ponder  deeply  how  he  could 
employ  that  to  the  best  advantage  ;  and  it  happened 
that  while  he  was  doing  so,  one  evening,  as  Owasso 
and  his  wife  were  sitting  on  the  banks  of  the  lake, 
and  the  soft  breeze  swept  over  it,  they  heard  a  song, 
as  if  sung  by  some  one  at  a  great  distance.  The 
sound  continued  for  some  time,  and  then  died  away 
in  perfect  stillness.  "  Oh,  it  is  the  voice  of  Sheern," 
cried  Owasso.  "  It  is  the  voice  of  my  brother!  If  I 
could  but  only  see  him!"  And  he  hung  down  his 
head  in  deep  anguish. 

His  wife  witnessed  his  distress,  and  to  comfort  him 
she  proposed  that  they  should  attempt  to  make  their 
escape,  and  carry  him  succor  on  the  morrow. 

When  the  morning  came,  and  the  sun  shone 
warmly  into  the  lodge,  the  wife  of  Owasso  offered  to 
comb  her  father's  hair,  with  the  hor>e  that  it  would 


ing.     It  is  said  there  is  plenty  of  game  not  far  off, 
and  it  can  now  be  easily  tracked.     Let  us  go." 

The  magician  consented;  they  set  out,  and  arriv 
ing  at  a  good  ground  for  their  sport,  they  spent  the 
day  in  hunting.  Night  coming  on,  they  built  them- 


129 


selves  a  lodge  of  pine-branches  to  sleep  in.  Although 
it  was  bitterly  cold,  the  young  man  took  off  his  leg 
gings  and  moccasins,  and  hung  them  up  to  dry.  The 
old  magician  did  the  same,  carefully  hanging  his  own 
in  a  separate  place,  and  they  lay  down  to  sleep. 

Owasso,  from  a  glance  he  had  given,  suspected  that 
the  magician  had  a  mind  to  play  him  a  trick,  and  to 
be  beforehand  with  him,  he  watched  an  opportunity 
to  get  up  and  change  the  moccasins  and  leggings, 
putting  his  own  in  the  place  of  Mishosha's,  and  de 
pending  on  the  darkness  of  the  lodge  to  help  him 
through. 

Near  daylight,  the  old  magician  bestirred  him 
self,  as  if  to  rekindle  the  fire  ;  but  he  slyly  reached 
down  a  pair  of  moccasins  and  leggings  with  a  stick, 
and  thinking  they  were  no  other  than  those  of  Owas- 
so's,  he  dropped  them  into  the  flames  ;  while  he  cast 
himself  down,  and  affected  to  be  lost  in  a  heavy  sleep. 
The  leather  leggings  and  moccasins  soon  drew  up  and 
were  burned. 

Instantly  jumping  up  and  rubbing  his  eyes,  Mi* 
shosha  cried  out: 

"  Son-in-law,  your  moccasins  are  burning  ;  I  know 
it  by  the  smell." 

Owasso  rose  up,  deliberately  and  unconcerned. 

"  No,  my  friend,"  said  he,  "  here  are  mine,"  at  the 
same  time  taking  them  down  and  drawing  them  on. 
"  It  is  your  moccasins  that  are  burning." 


130  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

Mishosha  dropped  his  head  upon  liis  breast.  All 
his  tricks  were  played  out — there  was  not  so  much 
as  half  a  one  left  to  help  him  out  of  the  sorry  plight 
he  was  in. 

"  I  believe,  my  grandfather,"  added  Owasso,  "  that 
this  is  the  moon  in  which  fire  attracts,  and  I  fear 
you  must  have  set  your  foot  and  leg  garments  too 
near  the  fire,  and  they  have  been  drawn  in.  Now 
let  us  go  forth  to  the  hunt." 

The  old  magician  was  compelled  to  follow  him,  and 
they  pushed  out  into  a  great  storm  of  snow,  and 
hail,  and  wind,  which  had  come  on  over  night;  and 
neither  the  wind,  the  hail,  nor  the  snow,  had  the 
slightest  respect  for  the  bare  limbs  of  the  old  magi 
cian,  for  there  was  not  the  least  virtue  of  magic  in 
those  parts  of  old  ^Mishosha's  body.  After  a  while 
they  quite  stiffened  under  him,  his  body  became  hard, 
and  the  hair  bristled  in  the  cold  wind,  so  that  he 
looked  to  Owasso — who  turned  away  from  him,  leav 
ing  the  wicked  old  magician  alone  to  ponder  upon 
his  past  life — to  Owasso  he  looked  like  a  tough  old 
sycamore-tree  more  than  a  highly-gifted  old  ma 
gician. 

Owasso  himself  reached  home  in  safety,  proof* 
against  all  kinds  of  weather,  and  the  magic  canoe 
became  the  exclusive  property  of  the  young  man  and 
his  wife. 

During  all  this  part  of  Owasso's  stay  at  the  lodge 


SHEEM,   THE    FORSAKEN    BOY.  131 

of  Mishosha,  his  .sister,  whom  he  had  left  on  the 
main  land  with  Sheem,  their  younger  brother,  had 
labored  with  good-will  to  supply  the  lodge.  She 
knew  enough  of  the  arts  of  the  forest  to  provide 
their  daily  food,  and  she  watched  her  little  brother, 
and  tended  his  wants,  with  all  of  a  good  sister's  care. 
By  times  she  began  to  be  weary  of  solitude  and 
of  her  charge.  No  one  came  to  be  a  witness  of 
her  constancy,  or  to  let  fall  a  single  word  in  her 
mother-tongue.  She  could  not  converse  with  the 
birds  and  beasts  about  her,  and  she  felt,  to  the 
bottom  of  her  heart,  that  she  was  alone.  In  these 
thoughts  she  forgot  her  younger  brother  ;  she  almost 
wished  him  dead  ;  for  it  was  he  alone  that  kept  her 
from  seeking  the  companionship  of  others. 

One  day,  after  collecting  all  the  provisions  she  had 
been  able  to  reserve  from  their  daily  use,  and  bring 
ing  a  supply  of  wood  to  the  door,  she  said  to  her  lit 
tle  brother  : 

"  My  brother,  you  must  not  stray  from  the  lodge. 
I  am  going  to  seek  our  elder  brother.  I  shall  be 
back  soon." 

She  then  set  the  lodge  in  perfect  order,  and,  tak 
ing  her  bundle,  she  set  off  in  search  of  habitations. 
These  she  soon  found,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  the 
pleasures  and  pastimes  of  her  new  acquaintance, 
she  began  to  think  less  and  less  of  her  little  brother, 
Sheem.  She  accepted  proposals  of  marriage,  and 


132  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

from  that  time  she  utterly  forgot  the  abandoned 
boy. 

As  for  poor  little  Sheem,  he  was  soon  brought  to 
the  pinching  turn  of  his  fate.  As  soon  as  he  had 
eaten  all  of  the?  food  left  in  the  lodge,  he  was  obliged 
to  pick  berries,  and  live  off  of  such  roots  as  he  could 
dig  with  his  slender  hands.  As  he  wandered  about 
in  search  of  wherewithal  to  stay  his  hunger,  he  often 
looked  up  to  heaven,  and  saw  the  gray  clouds  going 
up  and  down.  And  then  he  looked  about  upon  the 
wide  earth,  but  he  never  saw  sister  nor  brother  re 
turning  from  their  long  delay. 

At  last,  even  the  roots  and  berries  gave  out. 
They  were  blighted  by  the  frost  or  hidden  out  of 
reach  by  the  snow,  for  the  mid-winter  had  come  on, 
and  poor  little  Sheem  was  obliged  to  leave  the  lodge 
and  wander  away  in  search  of  food. 

Sometimes  he  was  enforced  to  pass  the  night  in 
the  clefts  of  old  trees  or  caverns,  and  to  break  his 
fast  with  the  refuse  meals  of  the  savage  wolves. 

These  at  last  became  his  only  resource,  and  he 
grew  to  be  so  little  fearful  of  these  animals  that  he 
would  sit  by  them  while  they  devoured  their  meat, 
and  patiently  await  his  share. 

After  a  while,  the  wolves  took  to  little  Sheem  very 
kindly,  and  seeming  to  understand  his  outcast  con 
dition,  they  would  always  leave  something  for  him 
to  eat.  By  and  by  they  began  to  talk  with  him,  and 


133 

to  inquire  into  his  history.  When  he  told  them  that 
he  had  been  forsaken  by  his  brother  and  his  sister, 
the  wolves  turned  about  to  each  other,  lifted  up  their 
eyes  to  heaven,  and  wondered  among  themselves,  with 
raised  paws,  that  such  a  thing  should  have  been. 

In  this  way,  Sheem  lived  on  till  the  spring,  and  as 
soon  as  the  lake  was  free  from  ice,  he  followed  his 
new  friends  to  the  shore. 

It  happened  on  the  same  day,  that  his  elder  broth 
er,  Owasso,  was  fishing  in  his  magic  canoe,  a  consid 
erable  distance  out  upon  the  lake  ;  when  he  thought 
he  heard  the  cries  of  a  child  upon  the  shore.  He 
wondered  how  any  human  creature  could  exist  on  so 
bleak  and  barren  a  coast. 

He  listened  again  with  all  attention,  and  he  heard 
the  cry  distinctly  repeated  ;  and  this  time  it  was  the 
well-known  cry  of  his  younger  brother  that  reached 
his  ear.  He  knew  too  well  the  secret  of  his  song,  as 
he  heard  him  chaunting  mournfully: 

"  My  brother!  My  brother!  Since  you  left  me 
going  in  the  canoe,  a-hee-ee,  I  am  half  changed  into 
a  wolf,  E-wee.  I  am  half  changed  into  a  wolf,  E-wee." 

Owasso  made  for  the  shore,  and  as  he  approached 
the  lament  was  repeated.  The  sounds  were  very  dis 
tinct,  and  the  voice  of  wailing  was  very  sorrowful  for 
Owasso  to  listen  to,  and  it  touched  him  the  more 
that  it  died  away  at  the  close,  into  a  long-drawn 
howl,  like  that  of  the  wolf. 


134  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

In  the  sand,  as  he  drew  closer  to  the  land,  he  saw 
the  tracks  as  of  that  animal  fleeing  away;  and  be 
sides  these  the  prints  of  human  hands.  But  what 
were  the  pity  and  astonishment  that  smote  Owasso 
to  the  heart  when  he  espied  his  poor  little  brother — 
poor  little  forsaken  Sheem — half  boy  and  half  wolf, 
flying  along  the  shore. 

Owasso  immediately'leaped  upon  the  ground  and 
strove  to  catch  him  in  his  arms,  saying  soothingly, 
"  My  brother!  my  brother!  Come  to  me." 

But  the  poor  wolf-boy  avoided  his  grasp,  crying,  as 
he  fled,  "  Neesia,  neesia.  Since  you  left  me  going 
in  the  canoe,  a-he-ee,  I  am  half  changed  into  a  wolf, 
E-wee.  I  am  half  changed  into  a  wolf,  E-wee!"  and 
howling  between  these  words  of  lament. 

The  elder  brother,  sore  at  heart,  and  feeling  all  of 
his  brotherly  affection  strongly  returning,  with"  re 
newed  anguish,  cried  out,  "  My  brother!  my  brother! 
my  brother!" 

But  the  nearer  he  approached  to  poor  Sheem,  the 
faster  he  fled,  and  the  more  rapidly  the  change  went 
on ;  the  boy- wolf  by  turns  singing  and  howling,  and 
calling  out  the  name,  first  of  his  brother  and  then  of 
his  sister,  till  the  change  was  complete.  He  leaped 
upon  a  bank,  and  looking  back,  and  casting  upon 
Owasso  a  glance  of  deep  reproach  and  grief,  he  ex 
claimed,  "I  am  a  wolf!"  and  disappeared  in  the 
woods. 


XII. 

THE  MAGIC  BUNDLE. 

A  POOR  man,  called  lena,  or  the  Wanderer,  was 
•£L  in  the  habit  of  roaming  about  from  place  to 
place,  forlorn,  without  relations,  and  almost  helpless. 
He  had  often  wished  for  a  companion  to  share  his 
solitude  ;  but  who  would  think  of  joining  their  for 
tunes  with  those  of  a  poor  wanderer,  who  had  no 
shelter  but  such  as  his  leather  hunting-shirt  pro 
vided,  and  no  other  household  in  the  world  than  the 
bundle  which  he  carried  in  his  hand,  and  in  which 
his  hunting-shirt  was  laid  away? 

One  day  as  he  went  on  a  hunting  excursion,  to  re 
lieve  himself  of  the  burden  of  carrying  it,  lena  hung 
up  his  bundle  on  the  branch  of  a  tree,  and  then  set 
out  in  quest  of  game. 

On  returning  to  the  spot  in  the  evening,  he  was 
surprised  to  find  a  small  but  neat  lodge  built  in  the 
place  where  he  had  left  his  bundle;  and  on  looking 
in  he  beheld  a  beautiful  female,  sitting  on  the  further 
side  of  the  lodge,  with  his  bundle  lying  beside  her. 


136  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

During  the  day  lena  had  so  far  prospered  in  his 
sport  as  to  kill  a  deer,  which  he  now  cast  down  at  the 
lodge  door. 

Without  pausing  to  take  the  least  notice,  or  to 
give  a  word  of  welcome  to  the  hunter,  the  woman 
ran  out  and  began  to  see  whether  it  was  a  large  deer 
that  he  had  brought.  In  her  haste  she  stumbled  and 
fell  at  the  threshold. 

lena  looked  at  her  with  astonishment,  and  thought 
to  himself,  "  I  supposed  I  was  blessed,  but  I  find  my 
mistake.  Night-Hawk,"  said  he,  speaking  aloud,  "  I 
will  leave  my  game  with  you  that  you  may  feast  on 
it." 

He  then  took  up  his  bundle  and  departed.  After 
walking  some  time  he  came  to  another  tree,  on  which 
he  suspended  his  bundle  as  before,  and  went  in 
search  of  game. 

Success  again  attended  him,  and  he  returned, 
bringing  with  him  a  deer,  and  he  found  that  a  lodge 
had  sprung  up  as  before,  where 'he  had  hung  his 
bundle.  He  looked  in  and  saw  a  beautiful  female 
sitting  alone,  with  his  bundle  by  her  side. 

She  arose  and  came  out  toward  the  deer  which  he 
had  deposited  at  the  door,  and  he  immediately  went 
into  the  lodge  and  sat  by  the  fire,  as  he  was  weary 
with  the  day's  hunt,  which  had  carried  him  far  away. 

The  woman  did  not  return,  and  wondering  at  her 
delay,  lena  at  last  arose,  and  peeping  through  the 


THE    MAGIC    BUNDLE.  137 

door  of  the  lodge,  beheld  her  greedily  eating  all  the 
fat  of  the  deer.  He  exclaimed,  "  I  thought  I  was 
blessed,  but  I  find  I  was  mistaken."  Then  address 
ing  the  woman  :  "  Poor  Marten/'  said  he,  "  feast  on 
the  game  I  have  brought." 

He  again  took  up  his  bundle  and  departed;  and, 
as  usual,  hung  it  upon  the  branch  of  a  tree,  and 
wandered  off  in  quest  of  game. 

In  the  evening  he  returned,  with  his  customary- 
good  luck,  bringing  in  a  fine  deer.  He  again  found 
that  a  lodge  had  taken  the  place  of  his  bundle.  He 
gazed  through  an  opening  in  the  side  of  the  lodge, 
and  there  was  another  beautiful  woman  sitting  alone, 
with  a  bundle  by  her  side. 

As  soon  as  he  entered  the  lodge,  she  rose  cheer 
fully,  welcomed  him  home,  and  without  delay  or 
complaining,  she  brought  in  the  deer,  cut  it  up  as  it 
should  be,  and  hung  up  the  meat  to  dry.  She  then 
prepared  a  portion  of  it  for  the  supper  of  the  weary 
hunter.  The  man  thought  to  himself,  "  Now  I  am 
certainly  blessed." 

He  continued  his  practice  of  hunting  every  day, 
and  the  woman,  on  his  return,  always  welcomed  him, 
readily  took  charge  of  the  meat,  and  promptly  pre 
pared  his  evening  meal ;  and  he  ever  after  lived  a 
contented  and  happy  man. 


THE  RED  SWAN. 

rPHEEE  brothers  were  left  destitute,  by  the  death 
J-  of  their  parents,  at  an  early  age.  The  eldest  was 
not  yet  able  to  provide  fully  for  their  support,  but 
he  did  all  that  he  could  in  hunting  ;  and  with  this 
aid,  and  the  stock  of  provisions  already  laid  by  in  the 
lodge,  they  managed  to  keep  along.  They  had  no 
neighbors  to  lend  them  a  helping  hand,  for  the  father 
had  withdrawn  many  years  before  from  the  body  of 
the  tribe,  and  had  lived  ever  since  in  a  solitary  place. 
The  lads  had  no  idea  that  there  was  a  human  being 
near  them.  They  did  not  even  know  who  their 
parents  had  been  ;  for,  at  the  time  of  their  death, 
the  eldest  was  too  young  to  remember  it. 

Forlorn  as  they  were,  they  however  kept  a  good 
heart,  and  making  use  of  every  chance,  in  course  of 
time  they  all  acquired  .  a  knowledge  of  hunting  and 
the  pursuit  of  game.  The  eldest  became  expert  in 
the  craft  of  the  forest,  and  he  was  very  successful 
in  procuring  food.  He  was  noted  for  his  skill  in  kill 
ing  buffalo,  elk,  and  moose  ;  and  he  instructed  his 


THE    BED     SWAN.  139 

brothers,  so  that  each  should  become  a  master  over 
a  particular  animal  which  was  assigned  to  him. 

After  they  had  become  able  to  hunt  and  to  take 
care  of  themselves,  the  elder  proposed  to  leave  them 
and  to  go  in  search  of  the  world,  promising  to  return 
as  soon  as  he  could  procure  them  wives.  In  this  in 
tention  he  was  overruled  by  his  brothers,  who  said 
that  they  could  not  part  with  him. 

Jeekewis,  the  second,  was  loud  in  disapproval  of 
the  scheme,  saying  :  "  What  will  you  do  with  those 
you  propose  to  get  ?  We  have  lived  so  long  by 
ourselves,  we  can  still  do  without  them."  This 
counsel  prevailed,  and  for  a  time  the  three  brothers 
continued  together. 

One  day  they  agreed  to  kill  each  a  male  of  that 
kind  of  animal,  which  each  was  most  expert  in 
hunting,  for  the  purpose  of  making  quivers  from 
their  skins.  When  these  quivers  were  prepared, 
they  were  straightway  rilled  with  arrows  ;  for  they 
all  had  a  presentiment  that  something  was  about  to 
happen  which  called  upon  them  to  be  ready. 

Soon  after  they  hunted  on  a  wager  to  see  who 
should  come  in  first  with  game,  and  have  the  privi 
lege  of  acting  as  entertainer  to  the  others.  They 
were  to  shoot  no  other  beast  or  bird  than  such  as 
each  was  in  the  habit  of  killing. 

They  set  out  on  different  paths.  Maidwa,  the 
youngest,  had  not  gone  far  before  he  saw  a  bear, 


140  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

an  animal  he  was  not  to  kill,  by  the  agreement. 
He,  however,  followed  him  closely,  and  driving  an 
arrow  through  and  through  hirn,  he  brought  him  to 
the  ground. 

Although  contrary  to  the  engagement  with  his 
brothers,  Maidwa  commenced  skinning  him,  \vhen 
suddenly  something  red  tinged  the  air  all  around 
him.  He  rubbed  his  eyes,  thinking  he  was  perhaps 
deceived  ;  but  rub  as  hard  as  he  would,  the  red  hue 
still  crimsoned  the  air,  and  tinged  every  object  that 
he  looked  on — the  tree-tops,  the  river  that  flowed, 
and  the  deer  that  glided  away  along  the  edge  of 
the  forest — with  its  delicate  splendor. 

As  he  stood  musing  on  this  fairy  spectacle,  a 
strange  noise  came  to  his  ear  from  a  distance.  At 
first  it  seemed  like  a  human  voice.  After  follow 
ing  the  sound  he  reached  the  shore  of  a  lake.  Float 
ing  at  a  distance  upon  its  waters  sat  a  most  beauti 
ful  Ked  Swan,  whose  plumage  glittered  in  the  sun, 
and  when  it  lifted  up  its  neck,  it  uttered  the  peculiar 
tone  he  had  heard.  He  was  within  long  bow-shot, 
and,  drawing  the  arrow  to  his  ear,  he  took  a  careful 
aim  and  discharged  the  shaft.  It  Jook  no  effect. 
The  beautiful  bird  sat  proudly  on  the  water,  still 
pouring  forth  its  peculiar  chant,  and  still  spreading 
the  radiance  of  its  plumage  far  and  wide,  and  light 
ing  up  the  whole  world,  beneath  the  eye  of  Maidwa, 
with  its  ruby  splendors. 


THE    RED     SWAN.  141 

He  shot  again  and  again,  till  his  quiver  was  empty, 
for  he  longed  to  possess  so  glorious  a  creature.  Still 
the  swan  did  not  spread  its  wings  to  fly,  but,  circling 
round  and  round,  stretched  its  long  neck  and  dipped 
its  bill  into  the  water,  as  if  indifferent  to  mortal 
shafts. 

Maidwa  ran  home,  and  bringing  all  the  arrows  in 
the  lodge,  shot  them  away.  He  then  stood  with  his 
bow  dropped  at  his  side,  lost  in  wonder,  gazing  at 
the  beautiful  bird. 

While  standing  thus,  with  a  heart  beating  more 
and  more  eagerly  every  moment  for  the  possession  of 
this  fair  swan,  Maidwa  remembered  the  saying  of 
his  elder  brother,  that  in  their  deceased  father's  med 
icine-sack  were  three  magic  arrows  ;  but  his  brother 
had  not  told  Maidwa  that  their  father,  on  his  death 
bed,  which  he  alone  had  attended,  had  especially  be 
queathed  the  arrows  to  his  youngest  son,  Maidwa, 
from  whom  they  had  been  wrongfully  kept.  The 
thought  of  the  magic  arrows  put  heart  in  Maidwa, 
and  he  hastened  with  all  speed  to  secure  them. 

At  any  other  time  he  would  have  shrunk  from 
opening  his  father's  medicine-sack,  but  something 
prompted  him  to  believe  that  there  was  no  wrong 
now,  and  snatching  them  forth  he  ran  back,  not  stay 
ing  to  restore  the  other  contents  to  the  sack,  but 
leaving  them  scattered,  here  and  there,  about  the 
lodge. 


142  THE    INDIAN    FAIKY    BOOK. 

He  feared,  as  he  returned,  that  the  swan  must  by 
this  time  have  taken  wing  ;  but,  as  he  emerged  from 
the  wood,  to  his  great  delight  the  air  was  as  rosy  as 
ever,  and  there,  in  her  own  serene  and  beautiful  way, 
still  sat  the  glorious  Ked  Swan. 

With  trembling  hand  he  shot  the  first  of  his  magic 
shafts  :  it  grazed  a  wing.  The  second  came  closer, 
and  cut  away  a  few  of  the  bright  red  feathers,  which 
fluttered  and  fell  like  flakes  of  fire  in  the  water.  The 
third,  which  he  carefully  aimed  arid  drew  home  upon 
the  string  with  all  his  force,  made  the  lucky  hit,  and 
passed  through  the  neck  of  the  bird  a  little  above 
the  breast. 

"  The  bird  is  mine,"  said  Maidwa,  to  himself ;  but 
to  his  great  surprise,  instead  of  seeing  it  droop  its 
neck  and  drift  to  the  shore,  the  Red  Swan  flapped  its 
wings,  rose  slowly,  and  flew  off  with  a  majestic  mo 
tion  toward  the  falling  sun. 

Maidwa,  that  he  might  meet  his  brothers,  rescued 
two  of  the  magic  arrows  from  the  water ;  and 
although  the  third  was  borne  off,  he  had  a  hope  yet 
to  recover  that  too,  and  to  be  master  of  the  swan. 
He  was  noted  for  his  speed;  for  he  would  shoot  an 
arrow  and  then  run  so  fast  that  the  arrow  always  fell 
behind  him  ;  and  he  now  set  off  at  his  best  speed  of 
foot.  a  I  can  run  fast,"  he  thought,  "  and  I  can  get 
up  with  the  swan  some  time  or  other." 

He  sped  on,  over  hills  and  prairies,  toward  the  west, 


THE    RED    SWAN.  143 

and  was  only  going  to  take  one  more  run,  and  then 
seek  a  place  to  sleep  for  the  night,  when,  suddenly, 
he  heard  noises  at  a  distance,  like  the  murmur  of 
waters  against  the  shore  ;  as  he  went  on,  he  heard 
voices,  and  presently  he  saw  people,  some  of  whom 
were  busy  felling  trees,  and  the  strokes  of  their  labor 
echoed  through  the  woods.  He  passed  on,  and  when 
he  emerged  from  the  forest,  the  sun  was  just  falling 
below  the  edge  of  the  sky. 

He  was  bent  on  success  in  pursuit  of  the  swan, 
whose  red  track  he  marked  well  far  westward  till  she 
was  lost  to  sight.  Meanwhile  he  would  tarry  for  the 
night  and  procure  something  to  eat,  as  he  had  fasted 
since  he  had  left  home. 

At  a  distance,  on  a  rising  ground,  he  could  see  the 
lodges  of  a  large  village.  He  went  toward  it,  and 
soon  heard  the  watchman,  who  was  set  on  a  height  to 
overlook  the  place,  and  give  notice  of  the  approach 
of  friends  or  foes,  crying  out,  "  We  are  visited;"  and 
a  loud  halloo  indicated  that  they  had  all  heard  it. 

When  Maidwa  advanced,  the  watchman  pointed  to 
the  lodge  of  the  chief.  "  It  is  there  you  must  go  in/r 
he  said,  and  left  him. 

"  Come  in,  come  in/'  said  the  chief ;  "  take  a  seat 
there;"  pointing  to  the  side  of  the  lodge  where  his 
daughter  sat.  "  It  is  there  you  must  sit." 

They  gave  him  something  to  eat,  and,  being  a 
stranger,  very  few  questions  were  put  to  him ;  it 


144  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

was  only  when  he  spoke  that  the  others  answered 
him. 

"  Daughter,"  said  the  chief,  as  soon  as  the  night 
had  set  in,  "  take  our  son-in-law's  moccasins  and  see 
if  they  he  torn  ;  if  so,  mend  them  for  him,  and  bring 
in  his  bundle." 

Maidwa  thought  it  strange  that  he  should  be  so 
warmly  received,  and  married  instantly  against  his 
own  wishes,  although  he  could  not  help  noticing  that 
the  chief's  daughter  was  pretty. 

It  was  some  time  before  she  would  take  the  moc 
casins  which  he  had  laid  off.  It  displeased  him  to  see 
her  loth  to  do  so  j  and  when  at  last  she  did  reach  them, 
he  snatched  them  from  her  hand  and  hung  them 
up  himself.  He  lay  down  and  thought  of  the  swan, 
and  made  up  his  mind  to  be  off  with  the  dawn.  He 
wakened  early,  and  finding  the  chief's  daughter  look 
ing  forth  at  the  door,  he  spoke  to  her,  but  she  gave 
no  answer.  He  touched  her  lightly. 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  said,  and  turned  her 
face  away  from  him. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Maidwa,  "  what  time  the  swan 
passed.  I  am  following  it;  come  out,  and  point  the 
way." 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  overtake  it?"  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered. 

"Naubesah — fool!"  retorted  the  chief's  pretty 
daughter. 


THE    RED    SWAN.  145 

She,  however,  went  out,  and  pointed  in  the  direc 
tion  he  should  go.  The  young  man  paced  slowly 
along  till  the  sun  arose,  when  he  commenced  travel 
ing  at  his  accustomed  speed.  He  passed  the  day  in 
running,  and  although  he  could  not  see  any  where  on 
the  horizon  the  Ked  Swan,  he  thought  that  he  dis 
cerned  a  faint  red  light  far  over  in  the  west. 

When  night  came,  he  was  pleased  to  find  himself 
near  another  village;  and  when  at  a  distance  he  heard 
the  watchman  crying  out,  "  We  are  visited;"  and  soon 
the  men  of  the  village  stood  out  to  see  the  stranger. 

He  was  again  told  to  enter  the  lodge  of  the  chief, 
and  his  reception  was  in  every  respect  the  same  as  on 
the  previous  night;  except  that  the  young  woman  was 
more  beautiful,  and  that  she  entertained  him  very 
kindly.  Although  urged  to  stay  with  them,  the  mind 
of  Maidwa  was  fixed  on  the  object  of  his  journey. 

Before  daybreak  he  asked  the  young  woman  at 
what  time  the  Red  Swan  passed,  and  to  point  out  the 
way.  She  marked  against  the  sky  with  her  finger 
the  course  it  had  taken,  and  told  him  that  it  had 
passed  yesterday  when  the  sun  was  between  mid-day 
and  its  falling-place. 

Maidwa  again  set  out  rather  slowly,  but  when  the 
sun  had  risen,  he  tried  his  speed  by  shooting  an  ar 
row  ahead,  and  running  after  it;  but  it  fell  behind 
him,  and  he  knew  that  he  had  lost  nothing  of  his 
quickness  of  foot. 

7 


146  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

Nothing  remarkable  happened  through  the"  day, 
and  he  went  on  leisurely.  Some  time  after  dark,  as 
he  was  peering  around  the  country  for  a  shelter,  he 
saw  a  light  emitted  from  a  small  low  lodge.  He  went 
up  to  it  very  slyly,  and,  peeping  through  the  door,  he 
discovered  an  old  man  alone,  with  his  head  down 
upon  his  breast,  warming  his  back  before  the  fire. 

Maidwa  thought  that  the  old  man  did  not  know 
that  he  was  standing  near  the  door ;  but  in  this  he 
was  mistaken;  for,  without  turning  his  eyes  to  look 
at  him,  the  old  man  said,  "  Walk  in,  my  grandchild  ; 
take  a  seat  opposite  to  me,  and  take  off  your  things 
and  dry  them,  for  you  must  be  fatigued;  and  I  will 
prepare  you  something  to  eat;  you  shall  have  some 
thing  very  delicate." 

Maidwa  accepted  this  kind  invitation,  and  entered 
the  lodge.  The  old  man  then  remarked,  as  if  in 
mere  course  of  conversation:  "  My  kettle  with  water 
stands  near  the  fire ;"  and  immediately  a  small 
earthen  pot  with  legs  appeared  by  the  fire.  He  then 
took  one  grain  of  corn,  also  one  of  whortleberry,  and 
put  them  in  the  pot. 

Maidwa  was  very  hungry,  and  seeing  the  limited 
scale  of  the  old  man's  housekeeping,  he  thought  his 
chance  for  a  supper  was  very  slight.  The  old  man 
had  promised  him  something  very  delicate,  and  he 
seemed  likely  to  keep  his  word.  Maidwa  looked  on 
silently,  and  did  not  change  his  face  any  more  than 


THE    BED    SWAN.    %  147 

if  the  greatest  banquet  that  was  ever  spread  had 
been  going  forward. 

The  pot  soon  boiled,  when  the  old  man  said  in  a 
very  quiet  way : 

"  The  pot  will  stand  at  a  distance  from  the  fire." 

It  removed  itself,  and  the  old  man  added  to 
Maidwa : 

"  My  grandchild,  feed  yourself ;"  handing  him  at 
the  same  time  a  dish  and  ladle  of  the  same  ware  as 
the  pot  itself. 

The  young  man,  whose  hunger  was  very  grejit, 
helped  himself  to  all  that  was  in  the  pot.  He  felt 
ashamed  to  think  that  he  had  done  so,  but  before  he 
could  speak  the  old  man  said  : 

t:  Eat,  my  grandchild  ;  eat,  eat !"  and  soon  after 
he  again  said — "  Help  yourself  from  the  pot." 

Maidwa  was  surprised,  on  dipping  in  his  ladle,  to 
see  that  it  was  full ;  and  although  he  emptied  it  a 
second  time,  it  was  still  again  filled  and  refilled  till 
his  hunger  was  entirely  satisfied.  The  old  man  then 
observed,  without  raising  his  voice  : 

"  The  pot  will  return  to  its  corner  ;"  and  the  pot 
took  itself  off  to  its  accustomed  place  in  an  out-of- 
the-way  corner  of*  the  lodge. 

Maidwa  observed  that  the  old  man  was  about  to 
address  him,  and  took  an  attitude  which  showed  that 
he  was  prepared  to  listen. 

"  Keep  on,  my  grandchild,"  said  the  old  man  ; 


148  THE    INDIAN    FA'RY    BOOK. 

"  you  will  surely  gain  that  you  seek.  To  tell  you 
more  I  am  not  permitted  ;  but  go  on  as  you  have 
begun  and  you  will  not  be  disappointed.  To-mor 
row  you  will  again  reach  one  of  my  fellow  old  men, 
but  the  one  you  will  see  after  him.  will  tell  you  all, 
and  the  manner  in  which  you  must  proceed  to  ac 
complish  your  journey.  Often  has  this  Ked  Swan 
passed,  and  those  who  have  followed  it  have  never 
returned  ;  but  you  must  be  firm  in  your  resolution, 
and  be  prepared  for  all  that  may  happen." 

"  So  will  it  be/'  answered  Maidwa  ;  and  they  both 
laid  down  to  sleep. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  old  man  ordered  his 
magic  kettle  to  prepare  breakfast,  so  that  his  guest 
might  eat  before  leaving.  As  Maidwa  passed  out,  the 
old  man  gave  him  a  blessing  with  his  parting  advice. 

Maidwa  set  forth  in  better  spirits  than  at  any 
time  since  he  had  started.  Night  again  found  him 
in  company  with  an  old  man  who  entertained  him 
Kindly,  with  a  frisky  little  kettle  which  hurried  up 
to  the  fire  before  it  was  spoken  to,  bustled  about 
and  set  his  supper  briskly  before  Maidwa,  and  frisked 
away  again,  without  waiting  for  orders.  The  old 
man  also  carefully  directed  him  on  his  way  in  the 
morning. 

He  traveled  with  a  light  heart,  as  he  now  ex 
pected  to  meet  the  one  who  was  to  give  him  direc 
tions  how  to  proceed  to  get  the  Eed  Swan. 


THE    RED    SWAN.  149 

Toward  night-fall  Maidwa  reached  the  lodge  of 
the  third  old  man.  Before  corning  to  the  door  he 
heard  him  saying  : 

"  Grandchild,  come  in  ;"  and  going  in  promptly 
he  felt  quite  at  home. 

The  old  man  prepared  him  something  to  eat,  act 
ing  as  the  other  magicians  had  done,  and  his  kettle 
was  of  the  same  size,  and  looked  as  if  it  were  an  own 
brother  of  the  two  others  which  had  feasted  him,  ex 
cept  that  this  kettle,  in  coming  and  going  about  its 
household  duties,  would  make  a  passing  remark,  or 
sing  a  little  tune  for  itself. 

The  old  man  waited  until  Maidwa  had  fully  satis 
fied  his  hunger,  when  he  addressed  him  : 

"  Young  man,  the  errand  you  are  bound  on  is  be 
set  with  trials  and  difficulties.  Numbers  have  passed 
with  the  same  purpose  as  that  which  now  prompts 
you,  but  they  never  returned.  Be  careful,  and  if 
your  guardian  spirits  are  powerful  you  may  succeed. 
This  Red  Swan  you  are  following  is  the  daughter  of 
a  magician  who  has  abundance  of  every  thing,  but 
only  this  one  child,  whom  "he  values  more  than  the 
sacred  arrows.  In  former  times  he  wore  a  cap  of 
wampum,  which  was  attached  to  his  scalp  ;  but  pow 
erful  Indians,  warriors  of  a  distant  chief,  came  and 
told  him  that  their  chief's  daughter  was  on  the  brink 
of  the  grave,  and  that  she  herself  requested  his  wam 
pum-cap,  which  she  was  confident  would  save  her 


150  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

life.  c  If  I  can  only  see  it/  she  said,  c  I  will  recover.' 
It  was  for  this  cap  they  had  come,  and  after  long  so 
licitation  the  magician  at  length  consented  to  part 
with  it,  in  the  hope  that  it  would  restore  to  health 
the  dying  maiden,  although  when  he  took  it  off  to 
hand  it  to  the  messengers  it  left  the  crown  of  his 
head  bare  and  bloody.  Years  have  passed  since,  and 
it  has  not  healed.  The  coming  of  the  warriors  to 
procure  it  for  the  sick  maiden  was  a  cheat,  and  they 
are  now  constantly  making  sport  of  the  unhappy 
scalp — dancing  it  about  from  village  to  village — and 
on  every  insult  it  receives  the  poor  old  chief  to 
whom  it  belongs  groans  with  pain.  Those  who  hold 
it  are  too  powerful  for  the  magician,  and  many  have 
sacrificed  themselves  to  recover  it  for  him,  but  with 
out  success.  The  Red  Swan  has  enticed  many  a 
young  man,  as  she  has  you,  to  enlist  them  to  procure 
the  scalp,  and  whoever  is  so  fortunate  as  to  succeed, 
it  is  understood,  will  receive  the  Bed  Swan  as  his  re 
ward.  In  the  morning  you  will  proceed  on  your  way, 
and  toward  evening  you  will  come  to  this  magician's 
lodge.  You  will  know  it  by  the  groans  which  you 
will  hear  far  over  the  prairie  as  you  approach.  He 
will  ask  you  in.  You  will  see  no  one  but  himself. 
He  will  question  you  much  as  to  your  dreams  and 
the  strength  of  your  guardian  spirits.  If  he  is  satis 
fied  with  your  answers,  he  will  urge  you  to  attempt 
the  recovery  of  his  scalp.  He  will  show  you  the 


THE    RED    SWAN.  151 

course  to  take,  and  if  you  feel  inclined,  as  I  see  that 
you  do,  go  forward,  my  son,  with  a  strong  heart ; 
persevere,  and  I  have  a  presentiment  that  you  will 
succeed." 

Maidwa  answered,  "  I  will  try." 

Betimes  in  the  morning,  after  having  eaten  from 
the  magic  kettle,  which  sung  a  sort  of  farewell  chant 
on  its  way  from  the  fire-place  to  its  station  in  the 
corner,  he  set  oif  on  his  journey. 

Toward  evening,  Maidwa,  as  he  crossed  a  prairie, 
heard,  as  had  been  predicted,  groans  from  a  distant 
lodge,  which  were  only  interrupted  by  a  voice  from  a 
person  whom  he  could  not  see,  calling  to  him  aloud : 

"  Come  in  !  come  in  !" 

On  entering  the  lodge,  the  magician  heaved  a  great 
groan  from  the  very  bottom  of  his  chest,  and  Maidwa 
saw  that  the  crown  of  his  head  was  all  bare  and 
bloody. 

"Sit  down/ sit  down,"  he  said,  "while  I  prepare 
you  something  to  eat.  You  see  how  poor  I  am.  I 
have  to  attend  to  all  my  own  wants,  with  no  other 
servant  than  that  poor  little  kettle  hi  the  corner. 
Kettle,  we  will  have  something  to  eat,  if  you 
please." 

"  In  a  moment,"  the  kettle  spoke  up  from  the  corner. 

"  You  will  oblige  me  by  making  all  the  dispatch 
you  can,"  said  the  magician,  in  a  very  humble  tone, 
still  addressing  the  kettle. 


152  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"  Have  patience/'  replied  the  kettle,  "  and  I  will 
be  with  you  presently." 

After  a  considerable  delay,  there  came  forward  out 
of  the  corner  from  which  it  had  spoken,  a  great 
heavy-browe4  and  pot-bodied  kettle,  which  advanced 
with  much  stateliness  and  solemnity  of  manner  till  it 
had  come  directly  in  front  of  the  magician,  whom  it 
addressed  with  the  question  : 

"  What  shall  we  have,  sir  ?" 

"  Corn,  if  you  please,"  the  magician  answered. 

"No,  we  will  have  whortleberries,"  rejoined  the 
kettle,  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  Very  well ;  just  as  you  choose." 

When  he  supposed  it  was  time,  the  magician  in 
vited  Maidwa  to  help  himself. 

"  Hold  a  minute,"  interposed  the  kettle,  as  Maid 
wa  was  about  to  dip  in  his  ladle.  He  paused,  and 
after  a  delay,  the  kettle,  shaking  itself  up  and  sim 
mering  very  loudly,  said,  "  Now  we  are  ready." 

Maidwa  fell  to  and  satisfied  his  hunger. 

"  Will  the  kettle  now  withdraw  ?"  asked  the  ma 
gician,  with  am  airt)f  much  deference. 

"  No,"  said  the  kettle,  "  we  will  stay  and  hear 
what  the  young  man  has  to  say  for  himself." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  magician.  "  You  see,"  he 
added  to  Maidwa,  "  how  poor  I  am.  I  have  to  take 
counsel  with  the  kettle,  or  I  should  be  all  alone,  with 
out  a  day's  food,  and  with  no  one  to  advise  me." 


THE    RED    SWAN.  153 

All  this  time  the  Red  Swan  was  carefully  con 
cealed  in  the  lodge,  behind  a  curtain,  from  which 
Maidwa  heard  now  and  then  a  rustling  noise,  that 
fluttered  his  spirits  and  set  his  heart  to  beating  at 
a  wonderful  rate. 

As  soon  as  Maidwa  had  partaken  of  food  and  laid 
aside  his  leggings  and  moccasins,  the  old  magician 
commenced  telling  him  how  he  had  lost  his  scalp, 
the  insults  it  was  receiving,  the  "pain  he  suffered 
thereby,  his  wishes  to  regain  it;  the  many  unsuccess 
ful  attempts  that  *  had  already  been  made,  and  the 
numbers  and  power  of  those  who  retained  it.  He 
would  interrupt  his  discourse,  at  times,  with  sudden 
groans,  and  say  : 

"  Oh,  how  shamefully  they  are  treating  it." 

Maidwa  listened  to  all  the  old  magician  had  to  say 
with  solemn  attention. 

The  magician  renewed  his  discourse,  and  inquired 
of  Maidwa  as  to  his  dreams,  or  what  he  saw  in  his 
sleep,  at  such  times  as  he  had  fasted  and  darkened 
his  face  to  procure  guardian  spirits. 

Maidwa  then  told  him  one  dream.  The  magician 
groaned. 

"  No,  that  is  not  it,"  he  said. 

Maidwa  told  him  of  two  or  three  others. 

The  magician  groaned  again  and  again,  and  said, 
rather  peevishly,  "  No,  these  are  not  the  dreams." 

"  Keep  cool,"  said  the  kettle,  which  had  left  the 

v* 


154  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

fire,  and  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
where  a  pleasant  breeze  was  blowing  through  the 
lodge,  and  added,  "  Have  you  no  more  dreams  of 
another  kind?" 

"  Yes-,"  said  Maidwa;  and  he  told  him  one. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  the  kettle.  "  We  are  much 
pleased  with  that." 

"  "  Yes,  that  is  it — that  is  it!"  the  magician  added. 
"  You  will  cause  me  to  live.  That  was  what  I  was 
wishing  you  to  say.  Will  you  then  go  and  see  if  you 
can  not  recover  my  poor  scalp?"  . 

"  Yes,"  said  Maidwa,  "  I  will  go;  and  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  when  you  hear  the  ka-kak  cries  of 
the  hawk,  you  will  know  that  I  am  successful.  You 
must  prepare  your  head,  and  lean  it  out  through  the 
door,  so  that  the  moment  I  arrive  I  may  place  your 
scalp  on." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  magician.  "  As  you  say  it 
will  be  done." 

Early  the  next  morning  Maidwa  set  out  to  fulfill 
his  promise;  and  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  sun 
hangs  toward  home,  he  heard  the  shouts  of  a  great 
many  people.  He  was  in  a  wood  at  the  time, 
and  saw,  as  he  thought,  only  a  few  men,  but  as  ho 
went  on*  they  increased  in  numbers.  On  emerging 
upon  the  plain,  their  heads  appeared  like  the  hanging 
leaves,  they  were  so  many. 

In  the  middle  of  the  plain  he  perceived  a  post,  and 


THiE    RED    SWAN.  155 

something  waving  at  its  top.  It  was  the  wampum 
scalp;  and  every  now  and  then  the  air  was  rent  with 
the  war-song,  for  they  were  dancing  the  war-dance  in 
high  spirit  around  it. 

Before  he  could  be  observed,  Maidwa  changed 
himself  into  a  humming-bird,  and  flew  toward  the 
scalp.  As  he  passed  some  of  those  who  were  stand 
ing  by,  he  came  close  to  their,  ears,  and  as  they  heard 
the  rapid  whirr  or  murmur  which  this  bird  makes 
when  it  flies,  they  jumped  aside,  and  asked  each 
other  what  it  could  be.  Maidwa  had  nearly  reached 
the  scalp,  but  fearing  that  he  should  be  perceived 
while  untying  it,  he  again  changed  himself  into  the 
down  that  floats  lightly  on  the  air,  and  sailed  slowly 
on  to  the  scalp.  He  loosened  it,  and  moved  off 
heavily,  as  the  weight  was  almost  too  great  for  him  to 
bear  up.  The  Indians  around  would  have  snatched  it 
away  had  not  a  lucky  current  of  air  just  then  buoyed 
him  up.  As  they  saw  that  it  was  moving  away  they 
cried  out,  "It  is  taken  from  us!  it  is  taken  from 
us!" 

Maidwa  was  borne  gently  along  but  a  little  way 
above  their  heads  ;  and  as  they  followed  him,  the 
rush  and  hum  of  the  people  was  like  the  dead  beat 
ing  of  the  surges  upon  a  lake  shore  after  a  storm. 
But  the  good  wind  gaining  strength,  soon  cariied  him 
beyond  their  pursuit.  A  little  further  on  he  changed 
himself  into  a  hawk,  and  flew  swiftly  off  with  his 


.156  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

'trophy,  crying,  "Ka-kak!  ka-kak!"  till  it  resounded 
with  its  shrill  tone  through  the  whole  country,  far  and 
wide. 

Meanwhile  the  magician  had  remembered  the  in 
structions  of  Maidwa,  placing  his  head  outside  of  the 
lodge  as  soon  as  he  heard  the'  ka-kak  cry  of  the 
hawk. 

In  a  moment  Maidwa  came  past  with  rustling 
wings,  and  as  he  flew  by,  giving  the  magician  a  severe 
blow  on  the  head  with  the  wampum  scalp,  his  limbs 
extended  and  quivered  in  an  agony,  the  scalp  adhered, 
and  Maidwa,  in  his  own  person,  walked  into  the  lodge 
and  sat  down,  feeling  perfectly  at  home. 

The  magician  was  so  long  in  recovering  from  the 
stunning  blow  which  had  been  dealt  him,  that  Maidwa 
feared  that  in  restoring  the  crown  of  his  head  he  had 
destroyed  his  life.  Presently,  however,  he  was 
pleased  to  see  him  show,  by  the  motion  of  his  hands 
and  limbs,  that  his  strength  was  returning;  and  in  a 
little  while  he  rose  and  stood  upon  his  feet.  What 
was  the  delight  of  Maidwa  to  behold,  instead  of  a 
withered  old  man,  far  advanced  in  years  and  stricken 
in  sorrow,  a  bright  and  cheerful  youth,  who  glittered 
with  life  as  he  stood  up  before  him. 

"  Thank  you,  my  friend,"  he  said.  "  Your  kind 
ness  and  bravery  of  heart  have  restored  me  to  my 
former  shape.  It  was  so  ordained,  and  you  have  now 
accomplished  the  victory." 


THE     RED    SWAN.  157 

They  embraced;  and  the  young  magician  urged 
the  stay  of  his  deliverer  for  a  few  days,  and  they 
formed  a  strong  attachment  to  each  other.  The  ma 
gician,  to  the  deep  regret  of  Maidwa,  neve*  once 
alluded  to  the  Red  Swan  in  all  their  conferences. 

At  last  the  day  arrived  when  Maidwa  prepared  to 
return  to  his  home.  The  young  magician  bestowed  on 
him  ample  presents  of  wampum,  fur,  robes,  and  other 
costly  things.  Although  Maidwa's  heart  was  burning 
within  him  to  see  the  Red  Swan,  to  hear  her  spoken 
of,  and  to  learn  what  his  fortune  was  to  be  in  regard 
to  that  fond  object  of  his  pursuit,  he  constrained  his 
feelings,  and  so  checked  his  countenance  as  to  never 
look  where  he  supposed  she  might  be.  His  friend  the 
young  magician  observed  -the  same  silence  and  cau 
tion. 

Maidwa's  pack  for  traveling  was  now  ready,  and  he 
was  taking  his  farewell  smoke,  when  the  young  magi 
cian  thus  addressed  him:  "My  friend  Maidwa,  you 
know  for  what  cause  you  came  thus  far,  and  why  you 
have  risked  so  much  and  waited  so  long.  You  have 
proved  my  friend  indeed.  You  have  accomplished  your 
object,  and  your  noble  perseverance  shall  not  go  un 
rewarded.  If  you  undertake  other  things  with  the 
same  spirit,  you  will  always  succeed.  My  destiny 
compels  me  to  remain  where  I  am,  although  I  should 
feel  happy  to  be  allowed  to  go  with  you.  I  have 
given  you,  of  ordinary  gifts,  all  you  will  need  as  long 


158  THE     INDIAN     FAIKY     BOOK 

as  you  live;  but  I  see  you  are  backward  to  speak  of 
the  Ked  Swan.  I  vowed  that  whoever  procured  me 
my  lost  wampum-scalp  should  be  rewarded  by  pos 
sessing  the  Red  Swan." 

He  then  spoke,  in  a  language  which  Maidwa  did 
not  understand,  the  curtain  of  the  lodge  parted,  and 
the  Red  Swan  met  his  gaze.  It  was  a  beautiful  fe 
male  that  he  beheld,  so  majestical  and  airy  in  her 
look,  that  he  seemed  to  see  a  creature  whose  home 
should  rather  be  in  the  free  heaven,  and  among  the 
rosy  clouds,  than  in  this  dusky  lodge. 

"  Take  her,"  the  young  magician  said;  "  she  is  my 
sister;  treat  her  well.  She  is  worthy  of  you,  and 
what  you  have  done  for  me  merits  more.  She  is 
ready  to  go  with  you  to  your  kindred  and  friends,  and 
has  been  so  ever  since  your  arrival;  and  my  good 
wishes  shall  go  with  you  both." 

The  Red  Swan  smiled  kindly  on  Maidwa,  who  ad 
vanced  and  greeted  her.  Hand  in  hand  they  took 
their  way  forth  from  the  lodge,  and,  watched  by  the 
young  magician,  advanced  across  the  prairie  on  their 
homeward  course. 

They  traveled  slowly,  and  looked  with  double  joy 
on  the  beautiful  country  over  which  they  had  both  so 
lately  passed  with  hearts,  ill  at  ease. 

After  two  or  three  days  they  reached  the  lodge  of 
the  third  old  man  who  had  entertained  him  with  the 
singing  kettle;  but  the  kettle  was  not  there.  The 


THE    RED    SWAN.  159 

old  man.  nevertheless,  received  them  very  kindly,  and 
said  to  Maidwa,  "  You  see  what  your  perseverance 
has  secured  you;  do  so  always,  and  you  will  succeed  in 
whatever  you  undertake." 

On  the  following  morning,  when  they  were  about 
to  start,  he  pulled  from  the  side  of  the  lodge  a  bag, 
which  he  presented  to  Maidwa,  saying,  "  Grandchild, 
I  give  you  this;  it  contains  a  present  for  you;  and  1 
hope  you  will  live  happily  till  old  age." 

Bidding  him  farewell,  they  again  set  forward;  and 
they  soon  came  to  the  second  old  man's  lodge;  he 
also  gave  them  a  present  and  bestowed  his  blessing. 
Nor  did  Maidwa  see  any  thing  here  of  the  frisky  lit 
tle  kettle  which  had  been  so  lively  on  his  former  visit. 

As  they  went  on  and  came  to  the  lodge  of  the  first 
old  man,  their  reception  and  farewell  were  the  same; 
and  when  Maidwa  glanced  to  the  corner,  the  silent 
kettle,  which  had  been  the  first  acquaintance  he  had 
made  in  that  family  on  his  travels,  was  not  there. 
The  old  man  smiled  when  he  discovered  the  direction 
of  Maidwa's  glance,  but  he  said  nothing. 

When,  on  continuing  their  journey,  they  at  last 
approached  the  first  town  which  Maidwa  had  passed 
in  his  pursuit,  the  watchman  gave  notice  as  before, 
and  he  was  shown  into  the  chief's  lodge. 

"  Sit  down  there,  son-in-law,"  said  the  chief,  point 
ing  to  a  place  near  his  daughter.  "  And  you  also/'' 
he  said  to  the  Eed  Swan. 


160  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

The  chief's  daughter  was  engaged  in  coloring  a 
girdle,  and,  as  if  indifferent  to  these  visitors,  she  did  not 
even  raise  her  head.  Presently  the  chief  said,  "Let 
some  one  bring  in  the  bundle  of  our  son-in-law." 

When  the  bundle  was  laid  before  him,  Maidwa 
opened  one  of  the  bags  which  had  been  given  to  him. 
It  was  filled  with  various  costly  articles — wampum, 
robes,  and  trinkets,  of  much  richness  and  value*  these, 
in  token  of  his  kindness,  he  presented  to  the  chief. 
The  chief's  daughter  stole  a  glance  at  the  costly  gifts, 
then  at  Maidwa  and  his  beautiful  wife.  She  stopped 
working,  and  was  silent  and  thoughtful  all  the  even 
ing.  The  chief  himself  talked  with  Maidwa  of  his 
adventures,  congratulated  him  on  his  good  fortune, 
and  concluded  by  telling  him  that  he  should  take 
his  daughter  along  with  him  in  the  morning. 

Maidwa  said  "  Yes." 

The  chief  then  spoke  up,  saying,  "  Daughter,  be 
ready  to  go  with  him  in  the  morning." 

Now  it  happened  when  the  chief  was  thus  speak 
ing  that  there  was  a  foolish  fellow  in  the  lodge,  who 
had  thought  to  have  got  this  chief's  daughter  for  a 
wife  ;  and  he  jumped  up,  saying  :  • 

"  Who  is  he,"  looking  grimly  at  Maidwa,  "that  he 
should  take  her  for  a  few  presents  ?  I  will  kill  him." 

And  he  raised  a  knife  wjiich  he  had  in  his  hand, 
and  gave  it  a  mighty  flourish  in  the  air.  He  kept 
up  this  terrible  flourish  till  some  one  came  and 


THE    BED    SWAN.  "161 

pulled  him  back  to  his  seat,  which  he  had  been  wait 
ing  for,  and  then  he  sat  quiet  enough. 

Amid  the  greetings  of  their  new  friends,  Maidwa 
and  the  Ked  Swan,  with  the  chief's  daughter,  took 
their  leave  by  peep  of  day,  and  toward  evening  they 
reached  the  other  town.  The  watchman  gave  the 
signal,  and  numbers  of  men,  women  and  children 
stood  out  to  see  them.  '  They  were  again  shown  into 
the  chief's  lodge,  who  welcomed  him,  saying : 

"  Son-in-law,  you  are  welcome." 

And  he  requested  Maidwa  to  take  a  seat  by  his 
daughter,  and  the  two  women  did  the  same. 

After  suitable  refreshment  for  all,  and  while  Maid 
wa  smoked  a  pipe,  the  chief  asked  him  to  relate  his 
adventures  in  the  hearing  of  all  the  inmates  of  the 
lodge,  and  of  the  strangers  who  had  gathered  in  at 
report  of  his  singular  fortunes. 

Maidwa  gave  them  his  whole  story.  When  he 
came  to  those  parts  which  related  to  the  Ked  Swan, 
they  turned  and  looked  upon  her  in  wonder  and  ad 
miration,  for  she  was  very  beautiful. 

The  chief  then  informed  Maidwa  that  his  brothers 
had  been  to  their  town  in  search  of  him,  but  that 
they  had  gone  back  some  time  before,  having  given 
up  all  hopes  of  ever  seeing  him  again.  He  added, 
that  since  he  had  shown  himself  a  man  of  spirit, 
whom  fortune  was  pleased  to  befriend,  he  sho^d  take 
his  daughter  with  him. 


162  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"  For  although  your  brothers,"  he  said,  "  were 
here,  they  were  too  hashful  to  enter  any  of  our 
lodges.  They  merely  inquired  for  you  and  returned. 
You  will  take  my  daughter,  treat  her  well,  and  that 
will  bind  us  more  closely  together/' 

It  if-  always  the  case  in  an  assembly  or  gathering 
that  some  one  of  the  number  is  foolish,  and  disposed 
to  play  the  clown.  It  happened  to  be  so  here.  One 
of  this  very  sort  was  in  the  lodge,  and,  after  Maidwa 
had  given  the  old  chief  presents,  as  he  had  to  the 
other,  this  pretender  jumped  up  in  a  passion,  and 
cried  out : 

"  Who  is  this  stranger,  that  he  should  have  her  ? 
I  want  her  myself." 

The  chief  bade  him  be  quiet,  and  not  to  disturb  or 
quarrel  with  one  who  was  enjoying  their  hospitality. 

"  No,  no/'  he  exclaimed,  rushing  forward  as  in  act 
to  strike. 

Maidwa  sat  unmoved,  and  paid  no  heed  to  his 
threats. 

He  cried  the  louder — "  I  will  have  her,  I  will  have 
her  !"  whereupon  the  old  chief,  being  now  vexed  past 
patience,  took  his  great  war-club  and  tapped  this 
clownish  fellow  upon  the  head,  which  so  far  sub 
dued  him  that  he  sat  for  some  time  quite  still;  when, 
after  a  while,  he  came  to  himself,  the  chief  upbraided 
him  for  his  folly,  and  told  him  to  go  out  and  tell  sto 
ries  to  the  old  women. 


THE    RED    SWAN.  163 

When  at  last  Maidwa  was  about  to  leave,  he  in 
vited  a  number  of  the  families  of  the  chief  to  go  with 
him  and  visit  their  hunting-grounds,,  where  he  prom 
ised  them  that  they  would  find  game  in  abundance. 
They  consented,  and  in  the  morning  a  large  company 
assembled  and  joined  Maidwa;  and  the  chief,  with  a 
party  of  warriors,  escorted  them  a  long  distance. 
When  ready  to  return,  the  chief  made  a  speech  and 
besought  the  blessing  of  the  Good  Spirit  on  Maidwa 
and  his  friends. 

They  parted,  each  on  its  course,  making  music 
with  their  war-drums,  which  could  be  heard  from 
afar  as  they  glittered  with  waving  feathers  in  the 
morning  sun,  in  their  march  over  the  prairie,  which 
was  lost  in  the  distant  sky. 

After  several  days'  travel,  Maidwa  and  his  friends 
came  in  sight  of  his  home.  The  others  rested  within 
the  woods  while,  he  went  alone  in  advance  to  see  his 
brothers. 

He  entered  the  lodge.  It  was  all  in  confusion  and 
covered  with  ashes.  On  one  side,  sitting  among  the 
cinders,  with  his  face  blackened,  and  crying  aloud, 
was  his  elder  brother.  On  the  other  side  sat  the 
younger,  Jeekewis,  also  with  blackened  face,  his  head 
covered  with  stray  feathers  and  tufts  of  swan-down. 
This  one  presented  so  curious  a  figure  that  Maidwa 
could  not  keep  from  laughing.  He  seemed  to  be  so 
lost  and  far-gone  in  grief  that  he  could  not  notice  his 


164  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK.      * 

brother's  arrival.  The  eldest,  however,  after  a  while, 
lifting  up  his  head,  recognized  Maidwa,  jumped  up 
and  shook  hands,  and  kissed  him,  and  expressed  much 
joy  at  his  return. 

Maidwa,  as  soon  as  he  had  seen  the  lodge  set  in 
order,  made  known  that  he  had  brought  each  of  them 
a  wife.  As  soon  as  Jeekewis  heard  a  wife  spoken  of, 
he  roused  from  his  torpor,  sprang  to  his  feet,  and 
said  : 

"  Why  is  it  just  now  that  you  have  come  ?"  and 
at  once  made  for  the  door  and  peeped  out  to  see  the 
strangers.  He  then  commenced  jumping  and  laugh 
ing,  and  crying  out,  "  Women  !  women  !"  and  that 
was  all  the  reception  he  gave  his  brother.  Maidwa 
told  them  to  wash  themselves  and  prepare,  for  he 
would  go  and  fetch  the  females  in. 

Jeekewis  scampered  about,  and  began  to  wash  him 
self  ;  but  he  would  every  now  and  then,  with  one 
side  of  his  head  all  feathers,  and  the  other  clear  and 
shining,  peep  forth  to  look  at  the  women  again. 
When  they  came  near,  he  said,  "  I  will  have  this  and 
that  one;"  he  did  not  exactly  know  which;  he  would 
sit  down  for  an  instant,  and  then  rise,  and  peep  about 
and  laugh;  in  fact  he  acted  like  one  beside  himself. 

As  soon  as  order  was  restored,  and  all  the  company 
who  had  been  brought  in  were  seated,  Maidwa  pre 
sented  one  of  the  chief's  daughters  to  his  eldest 
brother,  saying:  "  These  women  were  given  to  me,  to 


THE    BED    SWAN.  165 

dispose  of  in  marriage.  I  now  give  one  to  each.  I 
intended  so  from  the  first." 

Jeekewis  spoke  up  and  said,  "  I  think  three  wives 
would  have  been  enough  for  you." 

Maidwa  led  the  other  daughter  to  Jeekewis,  and 
said,  "  My  brother,  here  is  one  for  you,  and  live  hap- 

ply." 

Jeekewis  hung  down  his  head  as  if  he  was  ashamed, 
but  he  would  every  now  and  then  steal  a  look  at  his 
wife  and  also  at  the  other  women. 

By  and  by  he  turned  toward  his  wife  and  acted  as 
if  he  had  been  married  for  years. 

Maidwa  seeing  that  no  preparation  had  been  made 
to  entertain  the  company,  said,  "  Are  we  to  have  no 
supper  ?" 

He  had  no  sooner  spoken,  than  forth  from  a  corner 
stepped  the  silent  kettle,  which  placed*  itself  by  the 
fire,  and  began  bubbling  and  boiling  quite  briskly. 
Presently  that  was  joined  by  the  big  talking  kettle, 
which  said,  addressing  itself  to  Maidwa,  "  Master,  we 
shall  be  ready  presently;"  and  then,  dancing  along, 
came,  from  still  another,  the  frisky  little  kettle,  which 
hopped  to  their  side,  and  took  an  active  part  in  the 
preparations  for  the  evening  meal.  When  all  was 
nearly  ready,  a  delicate  voice  was  heard  singing  in  the 
last  corner  of  the  lodge,  and  keeping  up  its  dainty 
carol  all  the  way  to  the  fire-place,  the  fourth  kettle 
joined  the  three  cooks,  and  they  all  fell  to  with  all 


166  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

their  might,  and  in  the  best  possible  humoi,  to  dis 
patch  their  work. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  big  kettle  advanced  to 
ward  Maidwa,  and  said,  in  his  own  confident  way, 
"  Supper  is  ready!" 

The  feast  was  a  jovial  one;  and  although  they  were 
all  hungry,  and  plied  their,  ladles  with  right  good  will, 
yet,  dip  in  as  often  as  they  would,  the  four  magic 
kettles  held  out,  and  had  plenty  to  the  end  of  the 
revel. 

To  draw  to  a  close,  Maidwa  and  his  friends  lived  in 
peace  for  a  time;  their  town  prospered;  there  was 
no  lack  of  children  ;  and  every  thing  else  was  in 
abundance. 

One  day  the  two  brothers  began  to  look  dark  upon 
Maidwa,  and  to  reproach  him  for  having  taken  from 
the  medicine-sack  their  deceased  father's  magic  ar 
rows;  they  upbraided  him  especially  that  one  was 
lost. 

After  listening  to  them  in  silence,  he  said  that  he 
would  go  in  search  of  it,  and  that  it  should  be  re 
stored;  and  the  very  next  day,  true  to  his  word,  he 
left  them. 

After  traveling  a  long  way,  and  looking  in  every 
direction,  almost  hopeless  of  discovering  the  lost 
treasure,  he  came  to  an  opening  in  the  earth,  and 
descending,  it  led  him  to  the  abode  of  departed  spirits. 
The  country  appeared  beautiful,  the  pastures  were 


THE    BED    SWAN.  167 

greener  than  his  own,  and  the  sky  bluer  than  that 
which  hung  over  the  lodge,  and  the  extent  of  it  was 
utterly  lost  in  a  dim  distance;  and  he  saw  animals 
of  every  kind  wandering  about  in  great  numbers. 
The  first  he  came  to  were  buffalos;  his  surprise  was 
great  when  they  addressed  him  as  human  beings. 

They  asked  him  what  he  came  for,  how  he  had  de 
scended,  and  why  he  was  so  bold  as  to  visit  the  abode 
of  the  dead. 

He  answered  that  he  was  in  quest  of  a  magic  ar 
row,  to  appease  the  anger  of  his  brothers. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  leader  of  the  buffalos, 
whose  form  was  nothing  but  bone.  "  Yes,  we  know 
it,"  and  he  and  his  followers  moved  off  a  little  space 
from  Maidwa,  as  if  they  were  afraid  of  him.  "  You 
have  come,"  resumed  the  buffalo-spirit,  "  to  a  place 
where  a  living  man  has  never  before  been.  Yo.u  will 
return  immediately  to  your  tribe,  for,  under  pretense 
of  recovering  one  of  the  magic  arrows  which  belong 
to  you  by  your  father's  dying  wish,  they  have  sent 
you  off  that  they  might  become  possessed  of  your 
beautiful  wife,  the  Bed  Swan.  Speed  home!  You 
will  find  the  magic  arrow  at  the  lodge-door.  You 
will  live  to  a  very  old  age,  and  die  happily.  You 
can  go  no  further  in  these  abodes  of  ours." 

Maidwa  looked,  as  he  thought,  to  the  west,  and 
saw  a  bright  light  as  if  the  sun  was  shining  in  its 
splendor,  but  he  saw  no  sun. 


168  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

"  What  light  is  that  yonder  ?"  he  asked. 

The  all-boned  buffalo  answered — "  It  is  the  place 
where  those  who  were  good  dwell." 

"  And  that  dark  cloud  ?"  Maidwa  again  asked. 

"  It  is  the  place  of  the  wicked/'  answered  the  buf 
falo. 

Maidwa  turned  away,  for  it  was  very  dark,  and  it 
pained  his  eyes  to  look  upon  it ;  and,  moving  away 
by  the  aid  of  his  guardian  spirits,  he  again  stood 
upon  the  earth,  and  beheld  the  sun  giving  light  as 
usual. 

All  else  that  he  learned  in  the  abodes  of  the  dead, 
and  his  travels  and  acts  previous  to  his  return  home 
ward,  are  unknown,  for  he  never  spoke  of  them  to 
any  human  being. 

After  wandering  a  long  time  to  gather  knowledge  to 
make  his  people  happy  and  to  add  to  their  comfort,  he 
one  evening  drew  near  to  his  own  village.  Passing  all 
the  other  lodges  he  came  to  his  own  door,  where  he 
found  the  magic  arrow,  as  he  had  been  promised.  He 
heard  his  brothers  from  within  at  high  words  with 
each  other.  They  were  quarreling  for  the  possession 
of  his  wife,  who,  through  all  his  absence,  had  re 
mained  constant,  and  sadly  awaited  his  return. 
Maidwa  listened  in  shame  and  sorrow. 

He  entered  the  lodge,  holding  his  head  aloft  as  one 
conscious  of  good  principle  and  shining  with  anger. 
He  spoke  not  a  word,  but,  placing  the  magic  arrow 


THE    RED    SWAN.  169 

to  his  bow,  he  would  have  laid  his  brothers  dead  at 
his  feet ;  but  just  then  the  talking  kettle  stepped  for 
ward  and  spoke  such  words  of  wisdom,  and  the  sing 
ing  kettle  trolled  forth  such  a  soothing  little*  song, 
and  the  guilty  brothers  were  so  contrite  and  keenly 
repentant  of  their  intended  wrong,  and  the  Ked 
Swan  was  so  radiant  and  forgiving,  the  silent  kettle 
straightway  served  them  up  so  hearty  and  wholesome 
a  meal,  and  the  frisky  little  kettle  was  so  joyful  and 
danced  about  so  merrily,  that  when  the  magic  arrows 
were  laid  away  in  the  medicine-sack  by  Maidwa, 
there  was  that  night  in  all  the  Indian  country  no 
happier  family  than  the  three  brothers,  who  ever 
after  dwelt  together  in  all  kindness,  as  all  good 

brothers  should. 

8 


XIV. 

THE  MAN  WITH  HIS  LEG  TIED  UP. 

A£  a  punishment  for  having  once  upon  a  time  used 
that  foot  against  a  venerable  medicine  man,  Ag- 
go  Dah  Gauda  had  one  leg  looped  up  to  his  thigh,  so 
that  he  was  obliged  to  get  along  by  hopping.  By 
dint  of  practice  he  had  become  very  skillful  in  this 
exercise,  and  he  could  make  leaps  which  seemed  al 
most  incredible. 

Aggo  had  a  beautiful  daughter,  and  his  chief  care 
was  to  secure  her  from  being  carried  off  by  the  king 
of  the  buffalos,  who  was  the  ruler  of  all  the  herds  of 
that  kind,  and  had  them  entirely  at  his  command  to 
make  them  do  as  he  willed. 

Dah  Gauda,  too,  was  quite  an  important  person  in 
his  own  way,  for  he  lived  in  great  state,  having  a  log 
house  of  his  own,  and  a  court-yard  which  extended 
from  the  sill  of  his  front-door  as  many  hundred  miles 
westward  as  he  chose  to  measure  it. 

Although  he  might  claim  this  extensive  privilege 
of  ground,  he  advised  his  daughter  to  keep  within 
doors,  and  by  no  means  to  go  far  in  the  neighborhood, 


THE    MAN    WITH    HIS    LEG    TIED    UP.        171 

as  she  would  otherwise  be  sure  to  be  stolen  away,  as 
he  was  satisfied  that  the  buffalo-king  spent  night  and 
day  lurking  about  and  lying  in  wait  to  seize  her. 

One  sunshiny  morning,  when  there  were  just  two  or 
three  promising  clouds  rolling  moistly  about  the  sky, 
Aggo  prepared  to  go  out  a-fishing ;  but  before  he  left 
the  lodge  he  reminded  her  of  her  strange  and  indus 
trious  lover,  whom  she  had  never  seen. 

"  My  daughter,"  said  he,  "I  am  going  out  to  fish, 
and  as  the  day  will  be  a  pleasant  one,  you  must 
recollect  that  we  have  an  enemy  near,  who  is  con 
stantly  going  about  with  two  eyes  that  never  close, 
and  do  not  expose  yourself  out  of  the  lodge." 

With  this  excellent  advice,  Aggo  hopped  off  in 
high  spirits  ;  but  he  had  scarcely  reached  the  fishing- 
ground  when  he  heard  a  voice  singing,  at  a  distance: 

Man  with  the  leg  tied  up, 
Man  with  the  leg  tied  up, 
Broken  hip — hip — 
Hipped. 

Man  with  the  leg  tied  up, 
Man  with  the  leg  tied  up, 
Broken  leg — leg — 
Legged. 

There  was  no  one  in  sight,  but  Aggo  heard  the 
words  quite  plainly,  and  as  he  suspected  the  ditty  to 
be  the  work  of  his  enemies,  the  buffalos,  he  hopped 
home  as  fast  as  his  one  leg  could  carry  him. 


172  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

Meantime,  the  daughter  had  no  sooner  been 
left  alone  in  the  lodge  than  she  thought  with 
herself : 

"  It  is  hard  to  be  thus  forever  kept  in  doors.  But 
my  father  says  it  would  be  dangerous  to  venture 
abroad.  I  know  what  I  will  do.  I  will  get  0*1  the 
top  of  the  house,  and  there  I  can  comb  and  dress  my 
hair,  and  no  one  can  harm  me." 

She  accordingly  ascended  the  roof  and  busied  her 
self  in  untying  and  combing  her  beautiful  hair  ;  for 
it  was  truly  beautiful,  not  only  of  a  fine,  glossy  qual 
ity,  but  it  was  so  very  long  that  it  hung  over  the 
eaves  of  the  house  and  reached  down  on  the  ground, 
as  she  sat  dressing  it. 

She  was  wholly  occupied  in  this  employment,  with 
out  a  thought  of  danger,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  the 
king  of  the  buffalos  came  dashing  on  with  his  herd 
of  followers,  and  making  sure  of  her  by  means  of  her 
drooping  tresses,  he  placed  her  upon  the  back  of  one 
of  his  favorite  buffalos,  and  away  he  cantered  over 
the  plains.  Plunging  into  a  river  that  bounded  his 
land,  he  bore  her  safely  to  his  lodge  on  the  other 
side. 

And  now  the  buffalo-king  having  secured  the  beau 
tiful  person  of  Aggo  Dah  Gauda's  daughter,  he  set 
to  work  to  make  her  heart  his  own — a  little  ceremony 
which  it  would  have  been,  perhaps,  wiser  for  his  maj 
esty,  the  king  of  the  buffalos,  to  have  attended  to 


THE    MAN    WITH    HIS    LEG    TIED    UP.       173 

before,  for  he  now  worked  to  little  purpose.  Al 
though  he  labored  with  great  zeal  to  gain  her  affec 
tions,  she  sat  pensive  and  disconsolate  in  the  lodge, 
among  the  other  females,  and  scarcely  ever  spoke, 
nor  did  she  take  the  least  interest  in  the  affairs  of 
the  king's  household. 

To  the  king  himself  she  paid  no  heed,  and  although 
he  breathed  forth  to  her  every  soft  and  gentle  word 
he  could  think  of,  she  sat  still  and  motionless  foi 
all  the  world  like  one  of  the  lowly  bushes  by  the 
door  of  her  father's  lodge,  when  the  summer  wind  has 
died  away. 

The  king  enjoined  it  upon  the  others  in  the  lodge 
as  a  special  edict,  on  pain  of  instant  death,  to  give  to 
Aggo's  daughter  every  thing  that  she  wanted,  and  to 
be  careful  not  to  displease  her.  They  set  before  her 
the  choicest  food.  They  gave  her  the  seat  of  honoi 
in  the  lodge.  The  king  himself  went  out  hunting  to 
obtain  the  most  dainty  meats,  both  of  animals  and 
wild  fowl,  to  pleasure  her  palate;  and  he  treated  hei 
every  morning  to  a  ride  upon  one  of  the  royal  buffa- 
los,  who  was  so  gentle  in  his  motions  as  not  even  to 
disturb  a  single  one  of  the  tresses  of  the  beautiful 
hair  of  Aggo's  daughter  as  she  paced  along. 

And  not  content  with  these  proofs  of  his  attach 
ment,  the  king  would  sometimes  fast  from  all  food, 
and  having  thus  purified  his  spirit  and  cleared  his 
voice,  he  would  take  his  Indian  flute,  and,  sitting  be- 


174  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

fore  the  lodge,  give  vent  to  his  feelings  in  pensive 
echoes,  something  after  this  fashion  : 

My  sweetheart, 
My  sweetheart, 

Ah  me  I 

When  I  think  of  you, 
When  I  think  of  you, 

Ah  me! 
What  can  I  do,  do,  do? 

How  I  love  you, 
How  I  love  you, 

Ah  mel 

Do  not  hate  me, 
Do  not  hate  me, 

Ah  me! 

Speak— e'en  berate  me. 
When  I  think  of  you, 

Ah  me! 
What  can  I  do,  do,  do  ? 

In  the  mean  time,  Aggo  Dah  Gauda  had  reached 
home,  and  finding  that  his  daughter  had  been  stolen, 
his  indignation  was  so  thoroughly  awakened  that  he 
would  have  forthwith  torn  every  hair  from  his  head, 
but,  being  entirely  bald,  this  was  out  of  the  question, 
so,  as  an  easy  and  natural  vent  to  his  feelings,  Aggo 
hopped  off  half  a  mile  in  every  direction.  First  he 
hopped  east,  then  he  hopped  west,  next  he  hopped 
north,  and  again  he  hopped  south,  all  in  search  of  his 
daughter;  till  the  one  leg  was  fairly  tired  out.  Then  he 
sat  down  in  his  lodge,  and  resting  himself  a  little,  he 
reflected,  and  then  he  vowed  that  his  single  leg  should 


THE    MAN    WITH    HIS    LEG    TIED     UP.       175 

never  know  rest  again  until  lie  had  found  his  beauti 
ful  (laughter  and  brought  her  home.  For  this  pur 
pose  he  immediately  set  out. 

Now  that  he  proceeded  more  coolly,  he  could  easily 
track  the  buffalo-king  until  he  came  to  the  banks  of 
the  river,  where  he  saw  that  he  had  plunged  in  and 
swam  over.  There  having  been  a  frosty  night  or  two 
"since,  the  water  was  so  covered  with  thin  ice  that 
Aggo  could  not  venture  upon  it,  even  with  one  leg. 
He  encamped  hard  by  till  it  became  more  solid,  and 
then  crossed  over  and  pursued  the  trail. 

As  he  went  along  he  saw  branches  broken  off  and 
strewed  behind,  which  guided  him  in  his  course;  for 
these  had  been  purposely  cast  along  by  the  daughter. 
And  the  manner  in  which  she  had  accomplished  it 
was  this.  Her  hair  was  all  untied  when  she  was 
caught  up,  and  being  very  long  it  took  hold  of  the 
branches  as  they  darted  along,  and  it  was  these  twigs 
that  she  broke  off  as  signs  to  her  father. 

When  Aggo  came  to  the  king's  lodge  it  was  even 
ing.  Carefully  approaching,  he  peeped  through  the 
sides,  and  saw  his  daughter  sitting  disconsolate.  She 
immediately  caught  his  eye,  and  knowing  that  it  was 
her  father  come  for  her,  she  all  at  once  appeared  to 
relent  in  her  heart,  and,  asking  for  the  royal  iipper, 
said  to  the  king,  "I  will  go  and  get  you  a  drink 
of  water." 

This  token  of  submission  delighted  his  majesty, 


176  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

and,  high  in  hope,  he  waited  with  impatience  for  her 
return. 

At  last  he  went  out,  but  nothing  could  be  seen  or 
heard  of  the  captive  daughter.  Calling  together  his 
followers,  they  sallied  forth  upon  the  plains,  and  had 
not  gone  far  when  they  espied  by  the  light  of  the 
moon,  which  was  shining  roundly  just  over  the  edge 
of  the  prairie,  Aggo  Dah  Gauda,  his  daughter  in  his 
arms,  making  all  speed  with  his  one  leg  toward  the 
west. 

The  buffalos  being  set  on  by  their  king,  raised  a 
great  shout,  and  scampered  off  in  pursuit.  They 
thought  to  overtake  Aggo  in  less  than  no  time;  but 
although  he  had  a  single  leg  only,  it  was  in  such  fine 
condition  to  go,  that  to  every  pace  of  theirs,  he  hop 
ped  the  length  of  a  cedar-tree. 

But  the  buffalo-king  was  well  assured  that  he 
would  be  able  to  overtake  Aggo,  hop  as  briskly  as  he 
might.  It  would  be  a  mortal  shame,  thought  the 
king,  to  be  outstripped  by  a  man  with  one  leg  tied 
up;  so,  shouting  and  cheering,  and  issuing  orders  on 
all  sides,  he  set  the  swiftest  of  his  herd  upon  the 
track,  with  strict  commands  to  take  Aggo  dead  or 
alive.  And.  a  curious  sight  it  was  to  see. 

At  one  time  a  buffalo  would  gain  handsomely 
upon  Aggo,  and  be  just  at  the  point  of  laying  hold 
of  him,  when  off  Aggo  would  hop,  a  good  furlong,  in 
an  oblique  line,  wide  out  of  his  reach;  which  bring- 


THE    MAN    WITH   HIS   LEG   TIED   UP.     Page 


I?6. 


THE    MAN    WITH    HIS    LEG    TIED    UP.       177 

ing  him  nearly  in  contact  with  another  of  the  herd, 
away  he  would  go  again,  just  as  far  off  in  another 
direction. 

And  in  this  way  Aggo  kept  the  whole  company  of 
the  buffalos  zig-zagging  across  the  plain,  with  the 
poor  king  at  their  head,  running  to  and  fro,  shouting 
among  them  and  hurrying  them  about  in  the  wildest 
way.  It  was  an  extraordinary  road  that  Aggo  was 
taking  toward  home;  and  after  a  time  it  so  puz 
zled  and  bewildered  the  buffalos  that  they  were 
driven  half  out  of  their  wits,  and  they  roared,  and 
brandished  their  tails,  and  foamed,  as  if  they  would 
put  out  of  countenance  and  frighten  out  of  sight 
the  old  man  in  the  moon,  who  was  looking  on  all  the 
time,  just  above  the  edge  of  the  prairie. 

As  for  the  king  himself,  losing  at  last  all  patience 
at  the  absurd  idea  of  chasing  a  man  with  one  leg  all 
night  long,  he  called  his  herd  together,  and  fled,  in 
disgust,  toward  the  west,  and  never  more  appeared  in 
all  that  part  of  the  country. 

Aggo,  relieved  of  his  pursuers,  hopped  off  a  hun 
dred  steps  in  one,*  till  he  reached  the  stream,  crossed 
it  in  a  twinkling  of  the  eye,  and  bore  his  daughter  in 
triumph  to  his  lodge. 

In  the  course  of  time  Aggo's  beautiful  daughter 
married  a  very  worthy  young  warrior,  who  was  neither 
a  buffalo-king  nor  so  much  as  the  owner  of  any  more 

8* 


178  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

of  the  buffalos  than  a  splendid  skin  robe  which  he 
wore,  with  great  effect,  thrown  over  his  shoulders,  on 
his  wedding-day.  On  which  occasion,  Aggo  Dah 
Gauda  hopped  about  on-  his  one  leg  livelier  than 
ever. 


XV. 

THE  LITTLE  SPIRIT,  OR  BOY-MAN. 

IN  a  little  lodge  at  a  beautiful  spot  on  a  lake 
shore,  alone  with  his  sister,  lived  a  boy  remarka 
ble  for  the  smallness  of  his  stature.  Many  large 
rocks  were  scattered  around  their  habitation,  and  it 
had  a  very  wild  and  out-of-the-way  look. 

The  boy  grew  no  larger  as  he  advanced  in  years, 
and  yet,  small  as  he  was,  he  had  a  big  spirit  of  his 
own,  and  loved  dearly  to  play  the  master  in  the  lodge. 
One  day  in  winter  he  told  his  sister  to  make  him 
a  ball  to  play  with,  as  he  meant  to  have  some  sport 
along  the  shore  on  the  clear  ice.  When  she  handed 
him  the  ball,  his  sister  cautioned  him  not  to  go  too 
far. 

He  laughed  af  her,  and  posted  off  in  high  glee, 
throwing  his  ball  before  him  and  running  after  it  at 
full  speed,  and  he  went  as  fast  as  his  ball.  At  last 
his  ball  flew  to  a  great  distance  ;  he  followed  as  fast 
as  he  could.  After  he  had  run  forward  for  some  time, 
he  saw  what  seemed  four  dark  spots  upon  the  ice, 
straight  before  him. 


180  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

When  he  came  up  to  the  shore  he  was  surprised  to 
see  four  large,  tall  men,  lying  on  the  ice,  spearing 
fish.  They  were  four  brothers,  who  looked  exactl} 
alike.  As  the  little  boy-man  approached  them,  the 
nearest  looked  up,  and  in  his  turn  he  was  surprised 
to  see  such  a  tiny  being,  and  turning  to  his  broth 
ers,  he  said : 

"  Tia  !  look  !  see  what  a  little  fellow  is  here." 

The  three  others  thereupon  looked  up  too,  and  see 
ing  these  four  faces,  as  if  they  had  been  one,  the  lit 
tle  spirit  or  boy-man  said  to  himself : 

"  Four  in  one  !  What  a  time  they  must  have  in 
choosing  their  hunting-shirts  !" 

After  they  had  all  stared  for  a  moment  at  the  boy, 
they  covered  their  heads,  intent  in  searching  for  fish. 
The  boy  thought  to  himself: 

-  "  These  four-faces  fancy  that  I  am  to  be  put  off 
without  notice  because  I  am  so  little,  and  they  are  so 
broad  and  long.  They  shall  find  out.  I  may  find  a 
way  to  teach  them  that  I  am  not  to  be  treated  so 
lightly." 

After  they  were  covered  up,  the  boy-man,  looking 
sharply  about,  saw  that  among  them  they  had 
caught  one  large  trout,  which  was  lying  just  by 
their  side.  Stealing  along,  he  slyly  seized  it,  and 
placing  his  fingers  in  the  gills,  and  tossing  his  ball 
before  him,  he  ran  off  at  full  speed. 

They  heard  the  pattering  ol  his  little  steps  upon 


THE    LITTLE    SPIRIT,    OR    BOY-MAN.      181 

the  ice,  and  when  the  four  looked  up  all  together,  they 
saw  their  fine  trout  sliding  away,  as  if  of  itself,  at  a 
great  rate,  the  boy  being  so  small  that  he  could  not 
be  distinguished  from  the  fish. 

"  See  I"  they  cried  out,  "  our  fish  is  running  away 
on  the  dry  land  !" 

When  they  stood  up  they  could  just  see,  over  the 
fish's  head,  that  it  was  the  boy-man  who  was  carrying 
it  off 

The  little  spirit  reached  the  lodge,  and  having  left 
the  trout  at  the  door,  he  told  his  sister  to  go  out  and 
bring  in  the  fish  he  had  brought  home. 

She  exclaimed,  "  Where  could  you  have  got  it  ? 
I  hope  you  have  not  stolen  it." 

"  Oh/'  he  replied,  "  I  found  it  on  the  ice.  It  was 
caught  in  our  lake.  Have  we  no  right  to  a  little  lake 
of  our  own  ?  I  shall  claim  all  the  fish  that  come  out 
of  its  waters." 

"  How,"  the  sister  asked  again,  "  could  you  have 
got  it  there  ?" 

"  No  matter,"  said  the  boy  ;  "  go  and  cook  it/ 

It  was  as  much  as  the  girl  could  do  to  drag  the 
great  trout  within  doors.  She  cooked  it,  and  its  fla 
vor  was  so  delicious  that  she  asked  no  more  questions 
as  to  how  he  had  come  by  i£. 

The  next  morning  the  little  spirit  or  boy-man  set 
off  as  he  had  the  day  before. 

He  made  all  sorts  of  sport  with  his  ball  as  he  frol- 


182  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

icked  along — high  over  his  head  he  would  toss  it, 
straight  up  into  the  air ;  then  far  before  him,  and 
again,  in  mere  merriment  of  spirit,  he  would  send  it 
bounding  back,  as  if  he  had  plenty  of  speed  and 
enough  to  spare  in  running  back  after  it.  And  the 
ball  leaped  and  bounded  about,  and  glided  through 
the  air  as  if  it  were  a  live  thing,  and  enjoyed  the 
sport  as  much  as  the  boy-man  himself. 

When  he  came  within  hail  of  the  four  large  men, 
who  were  fishing  there  every  day,  he  cast  his  ball 
with  such  force  that  it  rolled  into  the  ice-hole  about 
which  they  were  busy.  The  boy,  standing  on  the 
shore  of  the  lake,  called  out : 

"  Four-in-one,  pray  hand  me  my  ball/' 
"  No,  indeed,"  they  answered,  setting  up  a  grim 
laugh  which  curdled  their  four  dark  faces  all  at  once, 
"  we  shall  not ;"  and  with  their  fishing-spears  they 
thrust  the  ball  under  the  ice. 

"  Good  !"  said  the  boy-man,  "  we  shall  see." 
Saying  which  he  rushed  upon  the  four  brothers  and 
thrust  them  at  one  push  into  the  water.  His  ball 
bounded  back  to  the  surface,  and,  picking  it  up,  he 
ran  off,  tossing  it  before  him  in  his  own  sportive  way. 
Outstripping  it  in  speed  he  soon  reached  home,  and 
remained  within  till  the  next  morning. 

The  four  brothers,  rising  up  from  the  water  at  the 
same  time,  dripping  and  wroth,  roared  out  in  one 
voice  a  terrible  threat  of  vengeance,  which  they  prom- 


THE    LITTLE    SPIRIT,    OR    BOY-MAN.      183 

ised  to  execute  the  next  day.  They  knew  the  boy's 
speed,  and  that  they  could  by  no  means  overtake 
him. 

By  times  in  the  morning,  the  four  brothers  were 
stirring  in  their  lodge,  and  getting  ready  to  look  after 
their  revenge. 

Their  old  mother,  who  lived  with  them,  begged 
them  not  to  go. 

"  Better,"  said  she,  "  now  that  your  clothes  are 
dry,  to  think  no  more  of  the  ducking  than  to  go  and 
all  four  of  you  get  your  heads  broken,  as  you  surely 
will,  for  that  boy  is  a  monedo  or  he  could  not  perform 
such  feats  as  he  does." 

But  her  sons  paid  no  heed  to  this  wise  advice,  and, 
raising  a  great  war-cry,  which  frightened  the  birds 
overhead  nearly  out  of  their  feathers,  they  started  for 
the  boy's  lodge  among  the  rocks. 

The  little  spirit  or  boy-man  heard  them  roaring 
forth  their  threats  as  they  approached,  but  he  did 
not  appear  to  be  disquieted  in  the  least.  His  sister 
as  yet  had  heard  nothing  ;  after  a  while  she  thought 
she  could  distinguish  the  noise  of  snow-shoes  on  the 
snow,  at  a  distance,  but  rapidly  advancing.  She 
looked  out,  and  seeing  the  four  large  men  coming 
straight  to  their  lodge  she  was  in  great  fear,  and  run 
ning  in,  exclaimed  : 

"  He  is  coming,  four  times  as  strong  as  ever  \"  for 
^she  supposed  that  the  one  man  whom  her  brother  had 


184  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

offended  had  become  so  angry  as  to  make  four  of 
himself  in  order  to  wreak  his  vengeance. 

The  boy-man  said,  "  Why  do  you  mind  them  ? 
Give  me  something  to  eat." 

O    - 

"  How  can  you  think  of  eating  at  such  a  time  ?" 
she  replied. 

"  Do  as  I  request  you,  and  be  quick." 

She  then  gave  little  spirit  his  dish,  and  he  com 
menced  eating. 

Just  then  the  brothers  came  to  the  door. 

"  See  !"  cried  the  sister,  "  the  man  with  four 
heads  1" 

The  brothers  were  about  to  lift  the  curtain  at  the 
door,  when  the  boy-man  turned  his  dish  upside  down, 
and  immediately  the  door  was  closed  with  a  stone  ; 
upon  which  the  four  brothers  set  to  work  and  ham 
mered  with  their  clubs  with  great  fury,  until  at 
length  they  succeeded  in  making  a  slight  opening. 
One  of  the  brothers  presented  his  face  at  this  little 
window,  and  rolled  his  eye  about  at  the  boy-man  in 
a  very  threatening  way. 

The  little  spirit,  who,  when  he  had  closed  the  door, 
had  returned  to  his  meal,  which  he  was  quietly  eat 
ing,  took  up  his  bow  and  arrow  which  lay  by  his  side, 
and  let  fly  the  shaft,  which,  striking  the  man  in  the 
head,  he  fell  back.  The  boy-man  merely  called  out 
"  Number  one"  as  he  fell,  and  went  on  with  his  meal 

In  a  moment  a  second  face,  just  like  the  first,  pre- 


THE    LITTLE    SPIRIT,   OR    BOY-MAN.       185 

sented  itself ;  and  as  he  raised  his  bow,  his  sister  said 
to  him : 

"  What  is  the  use  ?  You  have  killed  that  man 
already." 

Little  spirit  fired  his  arrow — the  man  fell — he 
called  out  "  Number  two,"  and  continued  his  meal. 

The  two  others  of  the  four  brothers  were  dispatched 
in  the  same  quiet  way,  and  counted  off  as  "  Number 
three"  and  "  Number  four." 

After  they  were  all  well  disposed  of  in  this  way, 
the  boy-man  directed  his  sister  to  go  out  and  see 
them.  She  presently  ran  back,  saying  : 

"  There  are  four  of  them." 

"  Of  course,"  the  boy-man  answered,  "  and  there 
always  shall  be  four  of  them." 

Going  out  himself,  the  boy-man  raised  the  broth 
ers  to  their  feet,  and  giving  each  a  push,  one  with 
his  face  to  the  East,  another  to  the  West,  a  third  to 
the  South,  and  the  last  to  the  North,  he  sent  them 
off  to  wander  about  the  earth  ;  and  whenever  you  see 
four  men  just  alike;  they  are  the  four  brothers  whom 
the  little  spirit  or  boy-man  dispatched  upon  their 
travels. 

But  this  was  not  the  last  display  of  the  boy-man's 
power. 

When  spring  came  on,  and  the  lake  began  to 
sparkle  in  the  morning  sun,  the  boy-man  said  to  his 
sister : 


186  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"  Make  me  a  new  set  of  arrows,  and  a  bow." 

Although  he  provided  for  their  support,  the  little 
spirit  never  performed  household  or  hard  work  of 
any  kind,  and  his  sister  obeyed. 

When  she  had  made  the  weapons,  which,  though 
they  were  very  small,  were  beautifully  wrought  and 
of  the  best  stuff  the  field  and  wood  could  furnish,  she 
again  cautioned  him  not  to  shoot  into  the  lake. 

"She  thinks,"  said  the  boy-man  to  himself,"! 
can  see  no  further  into  the  water  than  she.  My  sis 
ter  shall  learn  better." 

Kegardless  of  her  warnings,  he  on  purpose  dis 
charged  a  shaft  into  the  lake,  waded  out  into  the 
water  till  he  got  into  its  depth,  and  paddled  about 
for  his  arrow,  so  as  to  call  the  attention  of  his  sister, 
and  as  if  to  show  that  he  hardily  braved  her  advice. 

She  hurried  to  the  shore,  calling  on  him  to  return  ; 
but  instead  of  heeding  her,  he  cried  out  : 

"  You  of  the  red  fins,  come  and  swallow  me  !" 

Although  his  sister  did  not  clearly  understand 
whom  her  brother  was  addressing,  she  too  called  out: 

"  Don't  mind  the  foolish  boy  1" 

The  boy-man's  order  seemed  to  be  best  attended 
to,  for  immediately  a  monstrous  fish  came  and  swal 
lowed  him.  Before  disappearing  entirely,  catching  a 
glimpse  of  his  sister  standing  in  despair  upon  the 
shore,  the  boy-man  hallooed  out  to  her : 

"  Me-zush-ke-zin-ance  I" 


THE    LITTLE    SPIRIT,    OB    BOY-MAN.       187 

She  wondered  what  he  meant.  At  last  it  occurred 
to  her  that  it  must  be  an  old  moccasin.  She  accord 
ingly  ran  to  the  lodge,  and  bringing  one,  she  tied  it  to 
a  string  attached  to  a  tree,  and  cast  it  into  the  water. 

The  great  fish  said  to  the  boy-man  under  water . 

"  What  is  that  floating  ?" 

To  which  the  boy-man  replied  : 

"  Go,  take  hold  of  it,  swallow  it  as  fast  as  you  can; 
it  is  a  great  delicacy." 

The  fish  darted  toward  the  old  shoe  and  swallowed 
it,  making  of  it  a  mere  mouthful. 

The  boy-man  laughed  in  himself,  but  said  nothing, 
till  the  fish  was  fairly  caught,  when  he  took  hold  of 
the  line  and  began  to  pull  himself  in  his  fish-carriage 
ashore. 

The  sister,  who  was  watching  all  this  time,  opened 
wide  her  eyes  as  the  huge  fish  came  up  and  up  upon 
the  shore;  and  she  opened  them  still  more  when  the 
fish  seemed  to  speak,  and  she  heard  from  within  a 
voice,  saying,  "  Make  haste  and  release  me  from  this 
nasty  place." 

It  was  her  brother's  voice,  which  she  was  accus 
tomed  to  obey;  and  she  made  haste  with  her  knife  to 
open  a  door  in  the  side  of  the  fish,  from  which  the 
boy-man  presently  leaped  forth.  He  lost  no  time  in 
ordering  her  to  cut  it  up  and  dry  it;  telling  her  that 
their  spring  supply  of  meat  was  now  provided. 

The  sister  now  began  to  believe  that  her  brother 


188  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

was  an  extraordinary  boy;  yet  she  was  not  altogether 
satisfied  in  her  mind  that  he  was  greater  than  the 
rest  of  the  world. 

They  sat,  one  evening,  in  the  lodge,  musing  with 
each  other  in  the  dark,  by  the  light  of  each  other's 
eyes — for  they  had  no  other  of  any  kind — when  the 
sister  said,  "  My  brother,  it  is  strange  that  you,  who 
can  do  so  much,  are  no  wiser  than  the  Ko-ko,  who 
gets  all  his  light  from  the  moon;  which  shines  or  not, 
as  it  pleases." 

"  And  is  not  that  light  enough  ?"  asked  the  little 
spirit. 

"  Quite  enough,"  the  sister  replied.  "  If  it  would 
but  come  within  the  lodge  and  not  sojourn  out  in  the 
tree-tops  and  among  the  clouds." 

"  We  will  have  a  light  of  our  own,  sister,"  said  the 
boy-man;  and,  casting  himself  upon  a  mat  by  the 
door,  he  commenced  singing  : 

Fire-fly,  fire-fly,  bright  little  thing, 
Light  me  to  bed  and  my  song  I  will  sing ; 
Give  me  your  light,  as  you  fly  o'er  my  head, 
That  I  may  merrily  go  to  my  bed. 

Give  me  your  light  o'er  the  grass  as  you  creep, 

That  I  may  joyfully  go  to  my  sleep ; 

Come,  little  fire-fly,  come  little  beast, 

Come !  and  I'll  make  you  to-morrow  a  feast. 

Come,  little  candle,  that  flies  as  I  sing,, 
Bright  little  fairy-bug,  night's  little  king ; 
Come  and  I'll  dream  as  you  guide  me  along ; 
Come  and  I'll  pay  you,  my  bug,  with  a  soug. 


THE    LITTLE    SPIRIT,    OB    BOY-MAN.       189 

As  the  boy-man  chanted  this  call,  they  came  in  at 
first  one  by  one,  then  in  couples,  till  at  last,  swarming 
in  little  armies,  the  fire-flies  lit  up  the  little  lodge 
with  a  thousand  sparkling  lamps,  just  as  the  stars 
were  lighting  the  mighty  hollow  of  the  sky  without. 

The  faces  of  the  sister  and  brother  shone  upon 
each  other,  from  their  opposite  sides  of  the  lodge, 
with  a  kindly  gleam  of  mutual  trustfulness ;  and 
never  more  from  that  hour  did  a  doubt  of  each  other 
darken  their  little  household. 


XVI. 

THE  ENCHANTED  MOCCASINS. 

ALONG-,  long  time  ago,  a  little  boy  was  living 
with  his  sister  entirely  alone  in  an  uninhabited 
country,  far  out  in  the  north-west.  He  was  called 
the  Boy  that  carries  the  Ball  on  his  Back,  from  an 
idea  that  he  possessed  supernatural  powers.  This  boy 
was  in  the  habit  of  meditating  alone,  and  asking 
within  himself,  whether  there  were  other  beings  sim 
ilar  to  themselves  on  the  earth. 

When  he  grew  up  to  manhood,  he  inquired  of  his 
sister  whether  she  knew  of  any  human  beings  beside 
themselves.  She  replied  that  she  did;  and  that  there 
was,  at  a  great  distance,  a  large  village. 

As  soon  as  he  heard  this,  he  said  to  his  sister,  "  I 
am  now  a  young  man  and  very  much  in  want  of  a 
companion;"  and  he  asked  his  sister  to  make  him 
several  pairs  of  moccasins. 

She  complied  with  his  request;  and  as  soon  as  he 
received  the  moccasins,  he  took  up  his  war-club  and 
set  out  in  quest  of  the  distant  village. 


THE    ENCHANTED    MOCCASINS.          191 

He  traveled  on  till  he  came  to  a  small  wigwam, 
a"nd  on  looking  into  it  he  discovered  a  very  old  wo 
man  sitting  alone  by  the  fire.  As  soon  as  she  saw  the 
stranger,  she  invited  him  in,  and  thus  addressed 
him: 

"  My  poor  grandchild,  I  suppose  you  are  one  of 
those  who  seek  for  the  distant  village,  from  which  no 
person  has  ever  yet  returned.  Unless  your  guardian 
is  more  powerful  than  the  guardians  of  those  who 
have  gone  before  you,  you  will  share  a  similar  fate  to 
theirs.  Be  careful  to  provide  yourself  with  the  invis 
ible  bones  they  use  in  the  medicine-dance,  for  with 
out  these  you  can  not  succeed/ 

After  she  had  thus  spoken,  she  gave  him  the  fol 
lowing  directions  for  his  journey  : 

"  When  you  come  near  to  the  village  which  you 
seek,  you  will  see  in  the  center  a  large  lodge,  in  which 
the  chief  of  the  village,  who  has  two  daughters,  re 
sides.  Before  the  door  there  is  a  great  tree,  which  is 
smooth  and  without  bark.  On  this  tree,  about  the 
height  of  a  man  from  the  ground,  is  hung  a  small 
lodge,  in  which  these  two  false  daughters  dwell.  It  is 
here  that  so  many  have  been  destroyed,  and  among 
them  your  two  elder  brothers.  Be  wise,  my  grand 
child,  and  abide  strictly  by  my  directions." 

The  old  woman  then  gave  to  the  young  man  the 
bones  which  were  to  secure  his  success;  and  she  in 
formed  him  with  great  care  how  he  was  to  proceed. 


192  THE     INDIAN     FAIEY     BOOK. 

Placing  them  in  his  bosom,  Onwee  Bahmondang, 
or  the  Wearer  of  the  Ball,  continued  his  journey, 
and  kept  eagerly  on  until  he  arrived  at  the  village  of 
which  he  was  in  search;  and  as  he  was  gazing  around 
him,  he  saw  both  the  tree  and  the  lodge  which  the 
old  woman  had  mentioned. 

He  at  once  bent  his  steps  for  the  tree,  and  ap 
proaching,  he  endeavored  to  reach  the  suspended 
lodge.  But  all  his  efforts  were  in  vain;  for  as  often 
as  he  attempted  to  reach  it,  the  tree  began  to  trem 
ble,  and  it  soon  shot  up  so  that  the  lodge  could 
hardly  be  perceived. 

He  bethought  him  of  his  guardian,  and  invoking 
his  aid,  and  changing  himself  into  a  squirrel,  he 
mounted  nimbly  up  again,  in  the  hope  that  the  lodge 
would  not  now  escape  him.  Away  shot  the  lodge, 
climb  as  briskly  as  he  might. 

Panting,  and  out  of  breath,  he  remembered  the 
instructions  of  the  old  woman,  and  drawing  from  his 
bosom  one  of  the  bones,  he  thrust  it  into  the  trunk 
of  the  tree,  and  rested  himself  to  be  ready  to  start 
again. 

As  often  as  he  wearied  of  climbing,  for  even  a 
squirrel  can  not  climb  forever,  he  repeated  the  little 
ceremony  of  the  bones  ;  but  whenever  he  came  near 
the  lodge  and  put  forth  his  hand  to  touch  it,  the  tree 
would  shoot  up  as  before,  and  carry  the  lodge  up 
far  beyond  his  reach. 


THE    ENCHANTED    MOCCASINS.          198 

At  length  the  bones  being  all  gone,  and  the  lodge 
well-nigh  out  of  sight,  he  began  to  despair,  for  the 
earth,,  too,  had  long  since  vanished  entirely  from  his 
view. 

Summoning  his  whole  heart,  he  resolved  to  try 
once  more.  On  and  up  he  went,  and,  as  soon  as  he 
put  forth  his  hand  to  touch  it,  the  tree  again  shook, 
and  away  went  the  lodge. 

One  more  endeavor,  brave  Onwee,  and  in  he  goes  ; 
for  having  now  reached  the  arch  of  heaven,  the  fly 
away  lodge  could  go  no  higher. 

Onwee  entered  the  lodge  with  a  fearless  step,  and 
he  beheld  the  two  wicked  sisters  sitting  opposite  each 
other.  He  asked  their  names.  The  one  on  his  left 
hand  called  herself  Azhabee,  and  the  one  on  the 
right,  Negahnabee. 

.After  talking  with  them  a  little  while,  he  discov 
ered  that  whenever  he  addressed  the  one  on  his  left 
hand,  the  tree  would  tremble  as  before  and  settle 
down  to  its  former  place  ;  but  when  he  addressed 
the  one  on  his  right  hand,  it  would  again  shoot  up 
ward. 

When  he  thus  perceived  that  by  addressing  the 
one  on  his  left  hand  that  the  tree  would  descend,  he 
continued  to  do  so  until  it  had  again  settled  down  to 
its  place  near  the  earth.  Then  seizing  his  war-club, 
he  said  to  the  sisters  : 

"You  who  have  caused  the  death  of  so  many  of 
9 


194  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

my  brethren  I  will  now  put  an  end  to,  and  thus  have 
revenge  for  those  you  have  destroyed." 

As  he  spoke  this  he  raised  the  club,  and  with  one 
blow  laid  the  two  wicked  women  dead  at  his  feet. 

Onwee  then  descended,  and  learning  that  these 
sisters  had  a  brother  living  with  their  father,  who 
had  shared  all  together  in  the  spoils  of  all  such  as 
the  wicked  sisters  had  betrayed,  and  who  would  now 
pursue  him  for  having  put  an  end  to  their  wicked 
profits,  Onwee  set  off  at  random,  not  knowing 
whither  he  went. 

The  father  coming  in  the  evening  to  visit  the 
lodge  of  his  daughters,  discovered  what  had  hap 
pened.  He  immediately  sent  word  to  his  son  that 
his  sisters  had  been  slain,  and  that  there  were  no 
more  spoils  to  be  had,  which  greatly  inflamed  the 
young  man's  temper,  especially  the  woeful  announce 
ment  at  the  close. 

"  The  person  who  has  done  this,"  said  the  brother, 
as  soon  as  he  had  reached  the  spot,  chafing  and 
half  beside  himself  at  the  gloomy  prospect  of  having 
no  more  travelers  to  strip,  "  must  be  that  boy  who 
carries  the  ball  on  his  back.  I  know  his  mode  of 
going  about  his  business,  and  since  he  would  not  al 
low  himself  to  be  killed  by  my  sisters,  he  shall  have 
the  honor  of  dying  by  my  hand.  I  will  pursue  him 
and  have  revenge." 

"  It  is  well,  my  son,"  replied  the  father ;   "  the 


THE    ENCHANTED    MOCCASINS.  195 

spirit  of  your  life  grant  you  success.  I  counsel  you 
to  be  wary  in  the  pursuit.  Bahmondang  is  a  cunning 
youth.  It  is  a  strong  spirit  who  has  put  him  on  to 
do  this  injury  to  us,  and  he  will  try  to  deceive  you  in 
every  way.  Above  all,  avoid  tasting  food  till  you 
succeed  ;  for  if  you  break  your  fast  before  you  see  his 
blood,  your  power  will  be  destroyed." 

The  son  took  this  fatherly  advice  all  in  good  part, 
except  that  portion  which  enjoined  upon  him  to  ab 
stain  from  staying  his  stomach  ;  but  over  that  he 
made  a  number  of  wry  faces,  for  the  brother  of  the 
two  wicked  sisters  had,  among  numerous  noble  gifts, 
a  very  noble  appetite.  Nevertheless,  he  took  up  -hip 
weapons  and  departed  in  pursuit  of  Onwee  Bah 
mondang,  at  the  top  of  his  speed.  * 

Onwee  finding  that  he  was  closely  followed, 
climbed  up  into  one  of  the  tallest  trees,  and  shot 
forth  the  magic  arrows  with  which  he  had  provided 
himself. 

Seeing  that  his  pursuer  was  not  turned  back  by 
his  arrows,  Onwee  renewed  his  flight ;  and  when  he 
found  himself  hard  pressed,  and  his  enemy  close  be 
hind  him,  he  transformed  himself  into  the  skeleton 
of  a  moose  that  had  been  killed,  whose  flesh  had 
come  off  from  his  bones.  He  then  remembered  the 
moccasins  which  his  sister  had  given  him,  and  which 
were  enchanted.  Taking  a  pair  of  them,  he  placed 
them  near  the  skeleton. 


196  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"  Go,"  said  lie  to  them,  "  to  the  end  of  the  earth." 

The  moccasins  then  left  him,  and  their  tracks  re 
mained. 

The  angry  brother  at  length  came  to  the  skeleton 
of  the  moose,  when  he  perceived  that  the  track  he 
had  been  long  pursuing  did  not  stop  there,  so  he  con 
tinued  to  follow  it  up  till  he  arrived  at  the  end  of  the 
earth,  where,  for  all  his  trouble,  he  found  only  a  pair 
of  moccasins. 

Vexed  that  he  had  been  outwitted  by  following  a 
pair  of  moccasins  instead  of  their  owner,  who  was 
the  object  of  his  pursuit,  he  bitterly  complained,  re 
solving  not  to  give  up  his  revenge,  and  to  be  more 
waiy  in  scrutinizing  signs. 

He  then  called  to  mind  the  skeleton  he  had  met 
with  on  his  way,  and  concluded  that  it  must  be  the 
object  of  his  search. 

He  retraced  his  steps  toward  the  skeleton,  but  to 
his  surprise  it  had  disappeared,  and  the  tracks  of  the 
wearer  of  the  ball  were  in  another  direction.  He 
now  became  faint  with  hunger,  and  lost  heart ;  but 
when  he  remembered  the  blood  of  his  sisters,  and 
that  he  should  not  be  allowed  to  enjoy  a  meal,  nor 
so  much  as  a  mouthful,  until  he  had  put  an  end  to 
Onwee  Bahrnondang,  he  plucked  up  his  spirits  and 
determined  again  to  pursue. 

Onwee,  finding  that  he  was  closely  followed,  and 
that  the  hungry  brother  was  approaching  very  fast, 


THE    ENCHANTED    MOCCASINS.  197 

changed  himself  into  a  very  old  man,  with  two 
daughters,  and  living  in  a  large  lodge  in  the  center 
of  a  beautiful  garden,  which  was  filled  with  every 
thing  that  could  delight  the  eye,  or  was  pleasant  to 
the  taste.  He  made  himself  appear  so  very  old  as  to 
be  unable  to  leave  his  lodge,  and  to  require  his 
daughters  to  bring  him  food  and  wait  on  him,  as 
though  he  had  been  a  mere  child.  The  garden  also 
had  the  appearance  of  old  age,  with  its  ancient 
bushes  and  hanging  branches  and  decrepit  vines  loit 
ering  lazily  about  in  the  sun. 

The  brother  kept  on  until  he  was  nearly  starved  and 
ready  to  sink  to  the  earth.  He  exclaimed,  with  a  long- 
drawn  and  most  mournful  sigh,  "  Oh  !  I  will  forget 
the  blood  of  my  ^ters,  for  I  am  starving.  Oh  !  oh  !" 

But  again  he  thought  of  the  blood  of  his  sisters, 
and  what  a  fine  appetite  he  would  have  if  he  should 
ever  be  allowed  to  eat  any  thing  again,  and  once 
more  he  resolved  to  pursue,  and  to  be  content  with 
nothing  short  of  the  amplest  revenge. 

He  pushed  on  till  he  came  to  the  beautiful  garden. 
He  advanced  toward  the  lodge. 

As  soon  as  the  fairy  daughters  perceived  him 
they  ran  and  told  their  father  that  a  stranger  ap 
proached. 

Their  father  replied,  "  Invite  him  in,  my  children, 
invite  him  in." 

They  did  so  promptly,  and,  by  the  command  of 


198  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

their  father,  they  boiled  some  corn,  and  prepared 
several  other  palatable  dishes.  The  savor  was  most 
delicious  to  the  nostrils  of  the  hungry  brother,  who 
had  not  the  least  suspicion  of  the  sport  that  was 
going  on  at  his  expense. 

He  was  faint  and  weary  with  travel,  and  he  felt 
that  he  could  endure  fasting  no  longer;  for  his  appe 
tite  was  terribly  inflamed  by  the  sight  of  the  choice 
food  that  was  steaming  before  him. 

He  fell  to  and  partook  heartily  of  the  meal;  and, 
by  so  doing,  he  was  overcome,  and  lost  his  right  of 
revenge.  All  at  once  he  forgot  the  blood  of  his  sis 
ters,  and  even  the  village  of  his  nativity,  and  his 
father's  lodge,  and  his  whole  past  life.  He  ate  so 
keenly,  and  came  and  went  to  the*  choice  dishes  so 
often,  that  drowsiness  at  length  overpowered  him, 
and  he  soon  fell  into  a  profound  sleep. 

Onwee  Bahmonclang  watched  his  opportunity,  and 
as  soon  as  he  saw  that  the  false  brother's  sleep 
was  sound,  he  resumed  his  youthful  form,  and  sent 
off  the  two  fairy  daughters  and  the  old  garden;  and 
drawing  the  magic-ball  from  his  back,  which  turned 
out  to  be  a  great  war-club,  he  fetched  the  slumbering 
brother  a  mighty  blow,  which  sent  him  away  too; 
and  thus  did  Onwee  Bahmondang  vindicate  his  title 
as  the  Wearer  of  the  Ball. 

When  Onwee  swung  around,  with  the  great  force 
and  weight  of  the  club  with  which  he  had  dispatched 


THE     ENCHANTED     MOCCASINS. 


199 


the  brother  of  the  two  wicked  women,  he  found  him 
self  in  a  large  village,  surrounded  by  a  great  crowd 
of  people.  At  the  door  of  a  beautiful  lodge  stood 
his  sister,  smiling,  and  ready  to  invite  him  in.  On- 
wee  entered,  and  hanging  up  his  war-club  and  the 
enchanted  moccasins,  which  he  had  recovered,  he 
rested  from  his  labors,  and  smoked  his  evening  pipe, 
with  the  admiration  and  appoval  of  the  whole  world. 

With  one  exception  only,  Onwee  Bfchmondang  had 
the  hearty  praises  of  all  the  people. 

Now  it  happened  that  there  lived  in  this  same  vil 
lage  an  envious  afid  boastful  fellow,  who  had  been 
once  a  chief,  but  coming  home  always  badly  whipped, 
he  was  put  out  of  office,  and  now  spent  his  time  about 
the  place  mainly* in  proclaiming  certain  great  things 
which  he  had  in  his  eye,  and  which  he  meant  to  do — 
one  of  these  days. 

This  man's  name  was  Ko-ko,  the  Owl;  and  hear 
ing  much  of  the  wonderful  achievements  of  the 
Wearer  of  the  Ball,  Ko-ko  put  on  a  big  look,  and 

g  J^do  something  extra- 

j  had  not  half  done 
|  to  go  on  the  ground 

'oak  ball,  which  he 
ident  in  its  magical 
the  Wearer  of  the 


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200      BTHE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

Ball.  In  fact  it  was  the  self-same  ball  that  Onwee 
had  employed,  except  that  the  magic  had  entirely 
gone  out  of  it.  Coming  by  night  in  the  shadow  of 
the  lodge,  he  thrust  his  arm  in  at  the  door,  and  stealth 
ily  possessed  himself  of  the  enchanted  moccasins. 
He  would  have  taken  away  Onwee's  war-club  too,  if 
he  could  have  carried  it;  but  although  he  was  twice 
the  size  and  girth  of  Onwee,  he  had  not  the  strength 
to  lift  it;  so  he  ^borrowed  a  club  from  an  old  chief,  who 
was  purblind,  and  mistook  Ko-ko  for  his  brother 
who  was  a  brave  man;  and  raising  a  terrible  tumult 
with  his  voice,  and  a  great  dust  with  his  heels,  Ko- 
ko  set  out. 

He  had  traveled  all  day,  when  he  came  to  a  small 
wigwam,  and  on  looking  into  it,  he*  discovered  a  very 
old  woman  sitting  alone  by  the  fire;  just  as  Onwee 
had  before. 

This  is  the  wigwam,  said  Ko-ko,  and  this  is  the 
old  woman. 

"  What  are  you  looking  for  ?"  asked  the  old  woman. 

"  I  want  to  find  the  lodge  with  the  wicked  young 
women  in  it,  who  slay  travellers  and  steal  their  trap 
pings,"  answered  Ko-ko. 

"  You  mean  the  two  young  women  who  lived  in 
the  flying  lodge  ?"  said  the  old  woman. 

"  The  same,"  answered  Ko-ko.  "  I  am  going  to 
kill  them." 

With  this  he  gave  a  great  flourish  with  his  bor- 


THE    ENCHANTED    M  0  C  C  A  S  I  ™.  201 

rowed  club,  and  looked  desperate  and  murderous  as 
he  could. 

"  They  were  slain  yesterday  by  the  Wearer  of  the 
Ball/'  said  the  old  woman. 

Ko-ko  looked  around  for  the  door  in  a  very  owl 
ish  way,  and  heaving  a  short  hem  from  his  chest,  he 
acknowledged  that  he  had  heard  something  to  that 
effect  down  in  one  of  the  villages. 

"But  there  's  the  brother.  I  "11  have  a  chance  at 
him,"  said  Ko-ko. 

"  He  is  dead  too/'  said  the  old  woman. 

"  Is  there  nobody  then  left  for  me  to  kill  ?"  cried 
Ko-ko.  "  Must  I  then  go  back  without  any  blood 
upon  my  hands  ?" 

He  made  as  if  he  could  shed  tears  over  his  sad 
mishap. 

"  The  father  is  still  living;  and  you  will  find  him 
in  the  lodge,  if  you  have  a  mind  to  call  on  him.  He 
would  like  to  see  the  Owl,"  the  old  woman  added. 

"  He  shall,"  replied  Ko-ko.  "  Have  you  any  bones 
about  the  house;  for  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  climb 
that  tree." 

"Oh,  yes;  plenty,"  answered  the  old  woman. 
"  Ypu.  can  have  as  many  as  you  want." 

And  she  gave  him  a  handful  of  fish-bones,  which 
Ko-ko,    taking    them    to   be   the   Invisible    Tallies 
which  had  helped  Onwee  Bahmondang  in  climbing 
the  magical  tree,  thrust  into  his  bosom. 
9* 


202        ^THE  INDIAN  FAIRY  BOOK. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ko-ko,  taking  up  his  club  and 
striding  toward  the  door. 

"  Will  you  not  have  a  little  advice,"  said  the  old 
woman.  "  This  is  a  dangerous  business  you  are  going 
on." 

Ko-ko  turned  about  and  laughed  to  scorn  the 
proposal,  and  putting  forth  his  right  foot  from  the 
lodge  first,  an  observance  in  which  he  had  great 
hopes,  he  started  for  the  lodge  of  the  wicked  father. 

Ko-ko  ran  very  fast,  as  if  he  feared  he  should  lose 
the  chance  of  massacring  any  member  of  the  wicked 
family,  until  he  came  in  sight  of  the  lodge  hanging 
upon  the  tree. 

He  then  slackened  his  pace,  and  crept  forward  with 
a  wary  eye  lest  somebody  might  chance  to  be  look 
ing  out  at  the  door.  All  was,  however,  still  up  there; 
and  -Ko-ko  clasped  the  tree  and  began  to  climb. 

Away  went  the  lodge,  and  up  went  Ko-ko,  puf 
fing  and  panting,  after  it.  And  it  was  not  a  great 
while  before  the  Owl  had  puffed  and  panted  away  all 
the  wind  he  had  to  spare ;  and  yet  the  lodge  kept  fly 
ing  aloft,  higher,  higher.  What  was  to  be  done! 

Ko-ko  of  course  bethought  him  of  the  bones,  for 
that  was  just  what,  as  he  knew,  had  occurred  to  On- 
wee  Bahmondang  under  the  like  circumstances. 

He  had  the  bones  in  his  bosom;  and  now  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  be  a  squirrel.  He  immediately 
called  on  several  guardian  spirits  whom  he  knew  of 


THE    ENCHANTED    MOCCASINS.         .203 

by  name,  and  requested  them  to  convert  him  into  a 
squirrel.  But  not  one  of  all  them  seemed  to  pay  the 
slightest  attention  to  his  request;  for  there  he  hung, 
the  same  heavy-limbed,  big-headed,  be-clubbed,  and 
be-blanketed  Ko-ko  as  ever. 

He  then  desired  that  they  would  turn  him  into  an 
opossum;  an  application  which  met  with  the  same 
luck  'as  the  previous  one.  After  this  he  petitioned  to 
be  a  wolf,  a  gophir,  a  dog,  or  a  bear — if  they  would 
be  so  obliging.  The  guardian  spirits  were  either  all 
deaf,  or  indifferent  to  his  wishes,  or  absent  on  some 
other  business. 

Ko-ko,  in  spite  of  all  his  begging  and  supplica 
tion  and  beseeching,  was  obliged  to  be  still  Ko-ko. 

"  The  bones,  however,"  he  said,  to  himself,  "  are 
good.  I  shah1  get  a  nice  rest,  at  any  rate,  if  I  am 
forced  to  climb  as  I  am." 

With  this  he  drew  out  one  of  the  bones  from  his 
bosom,  and  shouting  aloud,  "  Ho!  ho!  who  is  there?" 
he  thrust  it  into  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  would 
have  indulged  himself  in  a  rest;  but  being  no  more 
than  a  common  fish-bone,  without  the  slightest  savor 
of  magic  in  it,  it  snapped  with  Ko-ko,  who  came 
tumbling  down,  with  the  door  of  the  lodge  which  he 
had  shaken  loose,  rattling  after  him. 

"  Ho!  ho!  who  is  there  ?"  cried  the  wicked  father, 
making  his  appearance  at  the  opening  and  looking 
down. 


204  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

ee*tt  is  I,  Onwee  Bahmandang  !"  cried  Ko-koor, 
thinking  to  frighten  the  wicked  father. 

"Ah!  it  is  you,' is  it  ?  I  will  be  there  presently," 
called  the  old  man.  "  Do  not  be  in  haste  to  go  away!" 

"  Ko-ko,  observing  that  the  old  man  was  in  earn 
est,  scrambled  up  from  the  ground,  and  set  off 
promptly  at  his  highest  rate  of  speed. 

When  he  looked  back  and  saw  that  the  wicked 
father  was  gaining  upon  him,  Ko-koor  mounted  a 
tree,  as  had  Onwee  Bahmandang  before,  and  fired  off 
a  number  of  arrows,  but  as  they  were  no  more  than 
common  arrows,  he  got  nothing  by  it,  but  was  obliged 
to  descend,  and  run  again  for  life. 

As  he  hurried  on  he  encountered  the  skeleton  of  a 
moose,  into  which  he  would  have  transformed  him 
self,  but  not  having  the  slightest  confidence  in  any 
one  of  all  the  guardians  who  should  have  helped  him, 
he  passed  on. 

The  wicked  father  was  hot  in  pursuit,  and  Ko-koor 
was  suffering  terribly  for  lack  of  wind,  when  luckily 
he  remembered  the  enchanted  moccasins.  He  could 
not  send  them  to  the  end  of  the  earth,  as  had  Onwee 
Bahmondang. 

"  I  will  improve  on  that  dull  fellow,"  said  Ko-ko. 
"  I  will  put  them  on  myself." 

Accordingly,  Ko-ko  had  just  time  to  draw  on  the 
moccasins  when  the  wicked  father  came  in  sight. 

"  G-o  now!"  cried  Ko-ko,  giving  orders  to  the  en- 


THE    ENCHANTED    MOCCASINS.          205 

changed  moccasins  ;  and  go  they  did;  but  to  the 
astonishment  of  the  Owl,  they  turned  immediately 
about  in  tte  way  in  which  the  wicked  father,  now, 
very  furious,  was  approaching. 

"  The  other  way!  the  other  way!"  cried  Ko-ko, 

Cry  as  loud  as  he  would,  the  enchanted  mocca 
sins  would  keep  on  in  their  own  course;  and  before  he 
could  shake  himself  out  of  them,  they  had  run  him 
directly  into  the  face  of  the  wicked  father. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  you  Owl  ?"  cried  the  wicked 
father,  falling  upon  Ko-ko  with  a  huge  club,  and 
counting  his  ribs  at  every  stroke. 

"  I  can  not  help  it,  good  man,"  answered  Ko-ko. 
"  I  tried  my  best—" 

Ko-ko  would  have  gone  the  other  way,  but  the 
enchanted  moccasins  kept  hurrying  him  forward. 
"  Stand  off,  will  you  ?"  cried  the  old  man. 

By  this  time,  allowing  the  wicked  father  chance  to 
bestow  no  more  than  five-and-twenty  more  blows 
upon  Ko-ko,  the  moccasins  were  taking  him  past. 

"  Stop  !"  cried  the  old  man  again.  "  You  are 
running  away.  Ho!  ho!  you  are  a  coward!" 

"  I  am  not,  good  man,"  answered  Ko-ko,  carried 
away  by  the  magical  shoes,  "  I  assure  you."  But  ere 
he  could  finish  his  avowal,  the  moccasins  had  hurried 
him  out  of  sight. 

"  At  any  rate,  I  shall  soon  be  home  at  this  speed/' 
said  Ko-koor  to  himself. 


206  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

The  moccasins  seemed  to  know  his  thoughts;  for 
just  then  they  gave  a  sudden  leap,  slipped  away  from 
his  feet,  and  left  the  Owl  flat  upon  his  back  !  while 
they  glided  home  "by  themselves,  to  the  lodge  of 
Onwee  Bahmondang,  where  they  belonged. 

A  party  of  hunters  passing  that  way  after  several 
days,  found  Ko-ko  sitting  among  the  bushes,  looking 
greatly  bewildered;  and  when  they  inquired  of  him 
how  he  had  succeeded  with  the  wicked  father  at  the 
lodge,  he  answered  that  he  had  demolished  the  whole 
establishment,  but  that  his  name  was  not  Ko-ko3 
but  Onwee  Bahmondang;  saying  which,  he  ran  away 
into  the  woods,  and  was  never  seen  more. 


XVII. 

HE    OF    THE    LITTLE    SHELL. 

ONCE  upon  a  time,  all  the  people  of  a  certain 
country  had  died,  excepting  two  helpless  chil 
dren,  a  baby  boy  and  a  little  girl. 

When  their  parents  died,  these  children  were 
asleep.  The  little  girl,  who  was  the  elder,  was  the 
first  to  awake.  She  looked  around  her,  but  seeing 
nobody  beside  her  little  brother,  who  lay  smiling  in 
his  dreams,  she  quietly  resumed  her  bed. 

At  the  end  of  ten  days  her  brother  moved,  without 

,  .  • 

'opening  his  eyes. 

At  the  end  of  ten  days  more  he  changed  his  posi 
tion,  lying  on  the  other  side,  and  in  this  way  he  kept 
on  sleeping  for  a  long  time  ;  and  pleasant,  too,  must 
have  been  his  dreams,  for  his  little  sister  never  looked 
at  him  that  he  was  not  quite  a  little  heaven  of  smiles 
and  flashing  lights,  which  beamed  about  his  head 
and  filled  the  lodge  with  a  strange  splendor. 

The  girl  soon  grew  to  be  a  woman,  but  the  boy  in 
creased  in  stature  very  slowly.  It  was  a  long  time 
before  ho  could  even  creep,  and  he  was  well  advanced 


208  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 


•«T 


in  years  before  lie  could  stand  alone.  When  lie  was 
able  to  walk,  his  sister  made  him  a  little'  bow  and  ar 
rows,  and  hung  around  his  neck  a  small  shell,  saying  : 

"  You  shall  be  called  Dais  Irnid,  or  He  of  the 
Little  Shell." 

Every  day  he  would  go  out  with  his  little  bow, 
shooting  at  the  small  birds.  The  first  bird  he  killed 
was  a  torn-tit.  His  sister  was  highly  pleased  when 
he  took  it  to  her.  She  carefully  prepared  and  stuffed 
it,  and  put  it  away  for  him. 

The  next  day  he  killed  a  red  squirrel.  His  sister 
preserved  this,  too.  The  third  day  he  killed  a  par 
tridge,  and  this  they  had  for  their  evening  meal. 

After  this  he  acquired  more  courage,  and  would 
venture  some  distance  from  home.  His  skill  and 
success  as  a  hunter  daily  increased,  and  he  killed  the 
deer,  bear,  moose,  and  other  large  animals  inhabiting 
the  forest. 

At  last,  although  so  very  small  of  stature,  he  be 
came  a  great  hunter,  and  all  that  he  shot  he  brought 

home  and  shared  with  his  sister  :   and  whenever  he 

«» 

entered  the  lodge,  a  light  beamed  about  his  head  and 
filled  the  place  with  a  strange  splendor. 

He  had  now  arrived  at  the  years  of  manhood,  but 
he  still  remained  a  perfect  infant  in  size. 

One  day,  walking  about  in  quest  of  game,  he  came 
to  a  small  lake. 

It  was  in  the  winter  season  ;  and  upon  the  ice  of 


HE    OF    THE    LITTLE     SHELL.  209 

the  lake  lie  saw  a  man  of  giant  height,  employed 
killing  beavers. 

Comparing  himself  with  this  great  man,  he  felt 
that  he  was  no  bigger  than  an  insect.  He  seated 
himself  on  the  shore  and  watched  his  movements. 

When  the  large  man  had  killed  many  beavers,  he 
put  them  on  a  hand-sled  which  he  had,  and  pursued 
his  way  home.  When  he  saw  him  retire,  the  dwarf 
hunter  followed,  and,  wielding  his  magic  shell,  he 
cut  off  the  tail  of  one  of  the  beavers,  and  ran  home 
with  the  prize. 

The  giant,  on  reaching  his  lodge  with  his  sled-load 
of  beavers,  was  surprised  to  find  one  of  them  shorn 
of  its  tail.  + 

The  next  day  the  little  hero  of  the  shell  went  to 
the  same  lake.  The  giant,  who  had  been  busy  there 
for  some  time,  had  already  loaded  his  sled  and  com 
menced  his  return ;  but  running  nimbly  forward 
and  overtaking  him,  he  succeeded  in  securing  another 
of  the  beaver-tails. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  the  giant,  on  reaching  his  lodge 
and  overlooking  his  beavers,  "  what  dog  it  is  that 
has  thus  cheated  me.  Could  I  meet  him,  I  would 
make  his  flesh  quiver  at  the  point  of  my  javelin/' 

The  giant  forgot  that  he  had  taken  these  very  bea 
vers  out  of  a  beaver-darn  which  belonged  to  the  lit 
tle  shell-man  and  his  sister,  without  permission. 

The  next  day  he  pursued  his  hunting  at  the  bea- 


210  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

ver-dam  near  the  lake,  and  lie  was  again  followed  by 
the  little  man  with,  the  shell. 

This  time  the  giant  was  so  nimble  in  his  move 
ments  that  he  had  nearly  reached  home  before  the 
Shell,  make  the  best  speed  he  could,  could  overtake 
him  ;  but  he  was  just  in  -time  to  clip  another  bea 
ver's  tail  before  the  sled  slipped  into  the  lodge. 

The  giant  would  have  been  a  patient  giant,  in 
deed,  if  his  anger  had  not  been  violent  at  these  con 
stant  tricks  played  upon  him.  What  vexed  him 
most,  was,  that  he  could  not  get  a  sight  of  his  en 
emy.  Sharp  eyes  he  would  have  needed  to  do  so,  in 
asmuch  as  he  of  the  little  shell  had  the  gift  of 
making  himself  invisible  whenever  he^hose. 

The  giant,  giving  vent  to  his  feelings  with  many 

loud  rumbling  words,  looked  sharply  around  to  see 

whether  he  could  discover  any  tracks.     He  could  find 

,none.     The    unknown    had   stepped   too   lightly   to 

leave  the  slightest  mark  behind. 

The  next  day  the  giant  resolved  to  disappoint  his 
mysterious  follower  by  going  to  the  beaver-dam  very 
early ;  and  accordingly,  when  the  little  shell  man 
came  to  the  place  he  found  the  fresh  traces  of  his 
work,  but  the  giant  had  already  gone  away.  He  fol 
lowed  hard  upon  his  tracks,  but  he  failed  to  overtake 
him.  When  he  of  the  little  shell  came  in  sight  of 
the  lodge,  the  stranger  was  in  front  of  it,  employed 
in  skinning  his  beavers. 


HE    OF    THE    LITTLE    SHELL.  211 

As  Dais-Imid  stood  looking  at  him — for  he  had 
been  all  this  time  in  visible— he  thought : 

"  I  will  let  him  have  a  view  of  me." 

Presently  the  man,  who  proved  to  be  no  less  a  per 
sonage  than  the  celebrated  giant,  Manabozho,  looked 
up  and  saw  him. 

After  regarding  him  with  attention,  "Who  are 
you,  little  man  ?"  said  Manabozho.  "  I  have  a  mind 
to  kill  you."  * 

The  little  hero  of  the  shell  replied  : 

"  If  you  were  to  try  to  'kill  me  you  could  not  do  it." 

With  this  speech  of  the  little  man,  Manabozho 
grabbed  at  him  ;  but  when  he  thought  to  have  had 
him  in  his  hand,  he  was  gone. 

"  Where  are  you  now,  little  man  ?"  cried  Mana 
bozho. 

"  Here,  under  your  girdle,"  answered  the  shell- 
dwarf  ;  at  which  giant  Manabozho,  thinking  to  crush 
him,  slapped  down  his  great  hand  with  all  his  might; 
but  on  unloosing  his  girdle  he  was  disappointed  at 
finding  no  dwarf  there. 

"  Where  are  you  now,  little  man  9"  he  cried  again, 
in  a  greater  rage  than  ever. 

"  In  your  right  nostril !"  the  dwarf  replied  ;  where 
upon  the  giant  Manabozho  seized  himself  by  the  fin- ' 
ger  and  thumb  at  the  place,  and  gave  it  a  violent 
tweak  ;  but  as  he  immediately  heard  the  voice  of 
the  dwarf  at  a  distance  upon  the  ground,  he  was  sat- 


212  THE     INDIA.N     FAIRY     BOOK. 

isfied  that  he  had  only  pulled  his  own  nose  to  no  pur 
pose. 

"  Good-by,  Manabozho/'  said  the  voice  of  the  in 
visible  dwarf.  "  Count  your  beaver-tails,  and  you 
will  find  that  I  have  taken  another  for  my  sister  ;" 
for  he  of  the  little  shell  never,  in  his  wanderings  or 
pastimes,  forgot  his  sister  and  her  wishes.  "  Good- 
by,  beaver-man  !" 

^.nd  as  he  went  away  he  made  himself  visible 
once  more,  and  a  light  beamed  about  his  head  and 
lit  the  air  around  him  with  a  strange  splendor  ;  a 
circumstance  which  Manabozho,  who  was  at  times 
quite  thick-headed  and  dull  of  apprehension,  could 
no  way  understand. 

When  Dais-Imid  returned  home,  he  told  his  sister 
that  the  time  drew  nigh  when  they  must  separate. 

"  I  must  go  away/7  said  Dais-Imid,  "  it  is  my 
fate.  You,  too,"  he  added,  "  must  go  away  soon. 
Tell  me  where  you  would  wish  to  dwell." 

She  said,  "  I  would  like  to  go  to  the  place  of  the 
breaking  of  daylight.  I  have  always  loved  the  East. 
The  earliest  glimpses  of  light  are  from  that  quarter, 
and  it  is  to  my  mind  the  most  beautiful  part  of  the 
heavens.  After  I  get  there,  my  brother,  whenever 
you  see  the  clouds,  in  that  direction,  of  various  colors, 
you  may  think  that  your  sister  is  painting  her  face." 

"  And  I,"  said  he,  "  I,  my  sister,  shall  live  on  the 
mountains  and  rocks.  There  I  can  see  you  at  the 


~ 


THE   MORNING    STAR    AND    HER    BROTHER.     Page 


HE     OF    T  H*E    LITTLE    SHELL.  213 

earliest  hour ;  there  are  the  streams  of  water  clear  ; 
the  air  is  pure,  and  the  golden  lights  will  shine  ever 
around  my  head;  and  I  shall  ever  be  called  '  Puck- 
Ininee,  or  the  Little  Wild  Man  of  the  Mountains/ 
But/'  he  resumed,  "before  we  part  forever,  I. must 
go  and  try  to  find  what  manitoes  rule  the  earth,  and 
see  which  of  them  will  be  friendly  to  us." 

He  left  his  sister  and  traveled  over  the  surface  of 
the  globe,  and  then  went  far  down  into  the  earth. 

He  had  been  treated  •  '/ell  wherever  he  went.  At 
last  he  came  to  a  giant  manito,  who  had  a  large 
kettle  which  was  forever  boiling.  The  giant,  who 
was  a  first  cousin  to  Manabozho,  and  had  already 
heard  of  the  tricks  which  Dais-Imid  had  played  upon 
his  kinsman,  regarded  him  with  a  stern  look,  and, 
catching  him  up  in  his  hand,  he  threw  him  uncere 
moniously  into  the  kettle. 

It  was  evidently  the  giant's  intention  to  drown 
Dais-Imid  ;  in  which  he  was  mistaken,  for  by  means 
of  his  magic  shell,  little  Dais,  in  less  than  a  second's 
time,  bailed  the  water  to  the  bottom,  leaped  from 
the  kettle,  and  ran  away  unharmed. 

He  returned  to  his  sister  and  related  his  rovings 
and  adventures.  He  finished  his  story  by  addressing 
her  thus  : 

"  My  sister  there  is  a  manito  at  each  of  the  four 
corners  of  the  earth.  There  is  also  one  above  them, 
far  in  the  sky,  a  Great  Being  who  assigns  to  you,  and 


214  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

to  me,  and  to  all  of  us,  where  we  must  go.  And 
last,"  he  continued,  "  there  is  another  and  wicked 
one  who  lives  deep  down  in  the  earth.  It  will  he  OUT 
lot  to  escape  out  of  his  reach.  We  must  now  sepa 
rate.  When  the  winds  hlow  from  the  four  corners 
of  the  earth,  you  must  then  go.  They  will  carry 
you  to  the  place  you  wish.  I  go  to  the  rocks  and 
mountains,  where  my  kindred  will  ever  delight  to 
dwell." 

Dais-Imid  then  took  his  ball-stick  and  commenced 
running  up  a  high  mountain,  and  a  bright  light 
shone  about  his  head  all  the  way,  and  he  kept  sing 
ing  as  he  went : 

Blow,  winds,  blow  I  my  sister  lingers 

For  her  dwelling  in  the  sky, 
Where  the  morn,  with  rosy  fingers, 

Shall  her  cheeks  with  vermil  dye. 

There  my  earliest  views  directed, 

Shall  from  her  their  color  take, 
And  her  smiles,  through  clouds  reflected, 

Guide  me  on  by  wood  or  lake. 

While  I  range  the  highest  mountains, 

Sport  in  valleys  green  and  low, 
Or,  beside  our  Indian  fountains, 

Raise  my  tiny  hip-hallo. 

Presently  the  winds  blew,  and,  as  Dais-Imid  had 
predicted,  his  sister  was  borne  by  them  to  the  east 
ern  sky,  where  she  has  ever  since  lived,  and  her  name 
is  now  the  Morning  Star. 


XVIII. 

MANABQZHO,  THE  MISCHIEF-MAKER. 

• 

HHHERE  was  never  in  the  whole  world  a  more  .mis- 
-1-  chievous  busy-body  than  that  notorious  giant 
Manabozho.  He  was  every  where,  in  season  and  out 
of  season,  running  about,  and  putting  his  hand  in 
whatever  was  going  forward.  To  carry  on  his  game, 
he  could  take  almost  any  shape  he  pleased;  he  could 
be  very  foolish  or  very  wise;  very  weak  or  very 
strong;  very  poor  or  very  rich — -just  as  happened  to 
suit  his  humor  best.  Whatever  any  one  else  could 
do,  he  would  attempt  without  a  moment's  reflection. 
He  was  a  match  for  any  man  he  met,  and  there  were 
few  manitoes  that  could  get  the  better  of  him.  By 
turns  he  would  be  very  kind,  or  very  cruel;  an  animal 
or  a  bird;  a  man  or  a  spirit;  and  yet,  in  spite  of  all 
these  gifts,  Manabozho  was  always  getting  himself  in 
volved  in  all  sorts  of  troubles;  and  more  than  once,  in 
the  course  of  his  busy  adventures,  was  this  great 
maker  of  mischief  driven  to  his  wits'  ends  to  come 
off  with  his  life. 


216  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY     BOOK. 

To  begin  at  the  beginning,  Manabozho,  while  yet 
a  youngster,  was  living  with  his  grandmother,  near 
the  edge  of  a  wide  prairie.  It  was  on  this  prairie  that 
he  first  saw  animals  and  birds  of  every  kind  ;  he  also 
there  made  first  acquaintance  with  thunder  and  light 
ning;  he  would  sit  by  the  hour  watching  the  clouds 
as  they  rolled,  and  musing  on  the  shades  of  light  and 
darkness  as  the  day  rose  and  fell. 

For  a  stripling,  Manabozho  was  uncommonly  wide 
awake.  Every  new  sight  he  beheld  in  the  heavens 
was  a  subject  of  remark;  every  new  animal  or  bird, 
an  object  of  deep  interest;  and  every  sound  that 
came  from  the  bosom  of  nature,  was  like  a  new  les 
son  which  he  was  expected  to  learn.  He  often  trem 
bled  at  what  he  heard  and  saw.  • 

To  the  scene  of  the  wide  open  prairie  his  grand 
mother  sent  him  at  an  early  age  to  watch.  The  first 

sound  he  heard  was  that  of  the  owl,  at  which  he  was 

• 

greatly  terrified,  and,  quickly  descending  the  tree  he 
had  climbed,  he  ran  with  alarm  to  the  lodge.  "  No- 
ko  !  noko  !  grandmother!"  he  cried.  "  I  have  heard 
a  rnonedo." 

She  laughed  at  his  fears,  and  asked  him  what  kind 
of  noise  his  reverence  made.  He  answered,  "  It  makes 
a  noise  like  this  :  ko -ko-ko-ho." 

His  grandmother  told  him  he  was  young  and  fool 
ish;  that  what  he  heard  was  only  a  bird  which  de 
rived  its  name  from  the  peculiar  noise  it  made. 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.       217 

He  returned  to  the  prairie  and  continued  his  watch. 
As  he  stood  there  looking  at  the  clouds,  he  thought 
to  himself,  "It  is  singular  that  I  am  so  simple  and 
my  grandmother  so  wise;  and  that  I  have  neither 
father  nor  mother.  I  have  never  heard  a  word  about 
them.  I  must  ask  and  find  out." 

He  went  home  and  sat  down,  silent  and  dejected. 
Finding  that  this  did  not  attract  the  notice  of  his 
grandmother,  he  began  a  loud  lamentation,  which  he 
kept  increasing,  louder  and  louder,  till  it  shook  the 
lodge,  and  nearly  deafened  the  old  grandmother.  She 
at  length  said,  "  Manabozho,  what  is  the  matter  with 
you  ?  you  are  making  a  great  deal  of  noise."  m 

Manabozho  started  off  again  with  his  doleful  hub 
bub;  but  succeeded  in  jerking  out  between  his  big 
sobs,  "  I  have  n't  got  any  father  nor  mother ;  I 
have  n't;"  and  he  set  out  again  lamenting  more  boist 
erously  than  ever. 

Knowing  that  he  was  of  a  wicked  and  revengeful 
temper,  his  grandmother  dreaded  to  tell  him  the 
story  of  his  parentage;  as  she  knew  he  would  make 
trouble  of  it. 

Manabozho  renewed  his  cries,  and  managed  to 
throw  out,  for  a  third  or  fourth  time,  his  sorrowful 
lament  that  he  was  a  poor  unfortunate,  who  had  no 
parents  and  no  relations. 

She  at  last  said  to  him,  "  Yes,  you  have  a  father 
and  three  brothers  living.  Your  mother  is  dead .  She 

10 


218  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

was  taken  for  a  wife  by  your  father,  the  West  with 
out  the  consent  of  her  parents.  Your  brothers  are 
the  North,  East,  and  South;  and  being  older  than 
yourself,  your  father  has  given  them  great  power  with 
the  winds,  according  to  their  names.  You  are  the 
youngest  of  his  children.  I  have  nursed  you  *from 
your  infancy;  for  your  mother,  owing  to  the  ill-treat 
ment  of  your  father,  died  in  giving  you  birth.  I  have 
no  relations  beside  you  this  side  of  the  planet  in 
which  I  was  born,  and  from  which  I  was  precipitated 
by  female  jealousy.  Your  mother  was  my  only  child, 
and  you  are  my  only  hope/' 

"  I  am  glad  my  father  is  living,"  said  Manabozho. 
"  I  shall  set  out  in  the  morning  to  visit  him." 

His  grandmother  would  have  discouraged  him ; 
saying  it  was  a  long  distance  t©  the  place  where  his 
father,  Ningabiun,  or  the  West,  lived. 

This  information  seemed  rather  to  please  than  to 
disconcert  Manabozho;  for  by  this  time  he  had  grown 
to  such  a  size  and  strength  that  he  had  been  compel 
led  to  leave  the  narrow  shelter  of  his  grandmother's 
lodge  and  to  live  out  of  doors.  He  was  so  tall  that, 
if  he  had  been  so  disposed,  he  could  have  snapped  off 
the  heads  of  the  birds  roosting  in  the  topmost 
branches  of  the  highest  trees,  as  he  stood  up,  with 
out  being  at  the  trouble  to  ;:limb.  And  if  he  had 
at  any  time  taken  a  fancy  to  jne  of  the  same  trees 
for  a  walking-stick,  he  would  have  had  no  more  to 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.       219 

d  o  than  to  pluck  it  up  with  his  thumb  and  finger, 
and  strip  down  the  leaves  and  twigs  with  the  palm  of 
his  hand.  . 

Bidding  good-by  to  his  venerable  old  grandmother, 
who  pulled  a  very  long  face  over  his  departure.,  Mana- 
bozho  set  out  at  great  headway,  for  he  was  able  to 
stride  from  one  side  of  a  prairie  to  the  other  at  a  sin 
gle  step 

He  found  his  father  on  a  high  mountain-ground, 
far  in  the  west.  His  father  espied  his  approach  at  a 
great  distance,  and  bounded  down  the  mountain-side 
several  miles  to  give  him  welcome,  and,  side-by-side, 
apparently  delighted  with  each  other,  they  reached 
in  two  or  three  of  their  giant  paces  the  lodge  of 
the  West,  which  stood  high  up  near  the  clouds. 

They  spent  some  days  in  talking  with  each  other 
— for  these  two  great  persons  did  nothing  on  a  small 
scale,  and  a  whole  day  to  deliver  a  single  sentence, 
such  was  the  immensity  of  their  discourse,  was  quite 
an  ordinary  affair. 

One  evening,  Manabozho  asked  his  father  what  he 
was  most  afraid  of  on  earth. 

He  replied—"  Nothing." 

"  But  is  there  nothing  you  dread,  here — nothing 
that  would  hurt  you  if  you  took  too  much  of  it  ? 
Come,  tell  me." 

Manabozho  was  very  urgent ;  at  last  his  father  said: 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  black  stone  to  be  found  a  couple 


220  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

of  hundred  miles  from  here,  over  that  way/'  pointing 
as  he  spoke.  "  It  is  the  only  thing  earthly  that  I  am 
afraid  of,  for  if  it  should  happen  to  hit  me  on  any 
part  of  my  body  it  would  hurt  me  very  much." 

The  West  made  this  important  circumstance 
known  to  Manabozho  in  the  strictest  confidence. 

"  Now  you  will  not  tell  any  one,  Manabozho,  that 
the  black  stone  is  bad  medicine  for  your  father,  will 
you  ?"  he  added.  "  You  are  a  good  son,  and  I  know 
will  keep  it  to  yourself.  Now  tell  me,  my  darling 
boy,  is  there  not  something  that  you  don't  like  ?" 

Manabozho  answered  promptly — "  Nothing." 

His  father,  who  was  of  a  very  steady  and  persever 
ing  temper,  put  the  same  question  to  him  seventeen 
times,  and  each  time  Manabozho  made  the  same 
answer — "  Nothing." ' 

But  the  West  insisted-—"  There  must  be  some 
thing  you  are  afraid  of." 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you,"  says  Manabozho,  "  what 
it  is." 

He  made  an  effort  to  speak,  but  it  seemed  to  be 
too  much  for  him. 

"  Out  with  it,"  said  Ningabiun,  or  the  West, 
fetching  Manabozho  such  a  blow  on  the  back  as 
shook  the  mountain  with  its  echo. 

"  Je-ee,  je-ee— it  is,"  said  Manabozho,  apparently 
in  great  pain;  "  Yeo,  yeo  1  I  can  not  name  it,  I 
tremble  so." 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF-M AKEE.       221 

The  West  told  him  to  banish  his  fears,  and  to 
speak  up  ;  no  one  would  hurt  him. 

Manabozho  began  again,  and  he  would  have  gone" 
aver  the  same  make-believe  of  anguish,  had  not  his 
father,  whose  strength  he  knew  was  more  than  a 
match  for  his  own,  threatened  to  pitch  him  into  a 
river  about  five  miles  off.  At  last  he  cried 
out : 

"  Father,  since  you  will  know,  it  is  the  root  of  the 
bulrush." 

He  who  could  with  perfect  ease  spin  a  sentence  a 
whole  day  long,  seemed  to  be  exhausted  by  the  effort 
of  pronouncing  that  one  word,  "  bulrush." 

Some  time  after,  Manabozho  observed  : 

"  I  will  get  some  of  the  black  rock,  merely  to  see 
how  it  looks." 

"  Well,"  said  the  father,  "  I  will  also  get  a  little 
of  the  bulrush-root,  to  learn  how  it  tastes." 

They  were  both  double-dealing  with  each  other,  and 
in  their  hearts  getting  ready  for  some  desperate  work. 

They  had  no  sooner  separated  for  the  evening  than 
Manabozho  was  striding  off  the  couple  of  hundred 
miles  necessary  to  bring  him  to  the  place  where  black 
rock  was  to  be  procured,  while  down  the  other  side 
of  the  mountain  hurried  Ningabiun. 

At  the  break  of  day  they  each  appeared  at  the 
great  level  on  the  mountain-top,  Manabozho  with 
twenty  loads,  at  least,  of  the  black  stone,  on  one  sido, 


222  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

and  on  the  other  the  West,  with  a  whole  meadow  of 
bulrush  in  his  arms. 

Manabozho  was  the  first  to  strike — hurling  a  great 
piece  of  the  black  rock,  which  struck  the  West  di 
rectly  between  the  eyes,  who  returned  the  favor  with 
a  blow  of  bulrush,  that  rung  over  the  shoulders  of 
Manabozho,  far  and  wide,  like  the  whip-thong  of  the 
lightning  among  the  clouds. 

And  now  either  rallied,  and  Manabozho  poured  in 
a  tempest  of  black  rock,  while  Mngabiun  discharged 
a  shower  of  bulrush.  Blow  upon  blow,  thwack  upon 
thwack — they  fought  hand  to  hand  until  black  rock 
and  bulrush  were  all  gone.  Then  they  betook  them 
selves  to  hurling  crags  at  each  other,  cudgeling  with 
huge  oak-trees,  and  defying  each  other  from  one 
mountain-top  to  another  ;  while  at  times  they  shot 
enormous  boulders  of  granite  across  at  each  other's 
heads,  as  though  they  had  been  mere  jack-stones. 
The  battle,  which  had  commenced  on  the  mountains, 
had  extended  far  west.  The  West  was  forced  to 
give  ground.  Manabozho  pressing  on,  drove  him 
across  rivers  and  mountains,  ridges  and  lakes,  till  at 
last  he  got  him  to  the  very  brink  of  the  world. 

"  Hold  !"  cried  the  West.  "  My  son,  you  know 
my  power,  and  although  I  allow  that  I  am  now  fairly 
out  of  breath,  it  is  impossible  to  kill  me^  Stop  where 
you  are,  and  I  will  also'  portion  you  out  with  as  much 
power  as  your  brothers.  The  four  quarters  of  the 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.         223 

globe  are  already  occupied,  but  you  can  go  and  do  a 
great  deal  of  good  to  the  people  of  the  earth,  which 
is  beset  with  serpents,  beasts  and  monsters,  who 
make  great  havoc  of  human  life.  Go  and  do 
good,  and  if  you  put  forth  half  the  strength  you 
have  to-day,  you  will  acquire  a  name  that  will  last 
forever.  When  you  have  finished  your  work  I  will 
have  a  place  provided  for  you.  You  will  then  go 
and  sit  with  your  brother,  Kabinocca,  in  the  North/' 

Manabozho  gave  his  father  his  hand  upon  this 
agreement.  And  parting  from  him,  he  returned  to 
his  own  grounds,  where  he  lay  for  some  time  sore  of 
his  wounds. 

These  being,  however,  greatly  allayed,  and  soon 
after  cured  by  his  grandmother's  skill  in  medicines, 
Manabozho,  as  big  and  sturdy  as  ever,  was  ripe  for 
new  adventures.  He  set  his  thoughts  immediately 
upon  a  war  excursion  against  the  Pearl  Feather,  a 
wicked  old  manito,  living  on  the  other  side  of  the 
great  lake,  who  had  killed  his  grandfather.  He  begun 
his  preparations  by  making  huge  bows  and  ariows 
without  number;  but  he  had  no  heads  for  his  shafts. 
At  last  Noko  told  him  that  an  old  man,  who  lived 
at  some  distance,  could  furnish  him  with  such 
as  he  needed.  He  sent  her  to  get  some.  She  soon 
returned  with  her  wrapper  full.  Manabozho  told  her 
that  he  had  not  enough,  and  sent  her  again.  She 
came  back  with  as  many  more.  He  thought  to  him- 


224  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

self,  "  I  must  find  out  the  way  of  making  these 
heads." 

Instead  of  directly  asking  how  it  was  done,  he  pre 
ferred — -just  like  Manabozho — to  deceive  his  grand 
mother  to  come  at  the  knowledge  he  desired,  by  a 
trick.  "Noko,"  said  he,  "while  I  take  my  drum 
and  rattle,  and  sing  my  war-songs,  do  you  go  and  try 
to  get  me  some  larger  heads,  for  these  you  have 
brought  me  are  all  of  the  same  size.  Go  and  see 
whether  the  old  man  is  not  willing  to  make  some 
a  little  larger." 

He  followed  her  at  a  distance  as  she  went,  having 
left  his  drum  at  the  lodge,  with  a  great  bird  tied  at 
the  top,  whose  fluttering  should  keep  up  the  drum 
beat,  the  same  as  if  he  were  tarrying  at  home.  He 
saw  the  old  workman  busy,  and  learned  how  he  pre 
pared  the  heads;  he  also  beheld  the  old  man's  daugh 
ter,  who  was  very  beautiful;  and  Manabozho  now  dis 
covered  for  the  first  time  that  he  had  a  heart  of  his 
own,  and  the  sigh  he  heaved  passed  through  the  ar 
row-maker's  lodge  like  a  gale  of  wind. 

"  How  it  blows!"  said  the  old  man. 

"  It  must  be  from  the  south,"  said  the  daughter; 
"  for  it  is  very  fragrant." 

Manabozho  slipped  away,  and  in  two  strides  he 
was  at  home,  shouting  forth  his  songs  as  though  he 
had  net&er  left  the  lodge.  He  had  just  time  to  free 
the  bird  which  had  been  beating  the  drum,  when  his 


THE    MISCHIEF-MAKEB.  225 

grandmother  came  in  and  delivered  to  him  the  big 
arrow-heads. 

In  the  evening  the  grandmother  said,  "  My  son, 
you  ought  to  fast  before  you  go  to  war,  as 'your  broth 
ers  do;  to  find  out  whether  you  will  be  successful  or 
not/' 

He  said  he  had  no  objection;  and  having  privately 
stored  away,  in  a  shady  place  in  the  forest,  two  or 
three  dozen  juicy  bears,  a  moose,  and  twenty  strings 
of  the  tenderest  birds,  he  would  retire  from  the 
lodge  so  far  as  to  be  entirely  out  of  view  of  his 
grandmother,  fall  to  and  enjoy  himself  heartily, 
and  at  nightfall,  having  just  dispatched  a  dozen 
birds  and  half  a  bear  or  so,  he  would  return,  totter 
ing  and  wo-begone,  as  if  quite  famished,  so  as  to 
move  deeply  the  sympathies  of  his  wise  old  grand- 
dame. 

The  place  of  his  fast  had  been  chosen  by  the  JSTo- 
ko,  and  she  had  told  him  it  must  be  so  far  as  to  be 
beyond  the  sound  of  her  voice  or  it  would  be  un 
lucky. 

After  a  time  Manabozho,  who  was  always  spying 
out  mischief,  said  to  himself,  "  I  must  find  out  why 
my  grandmother  is  so  anxious  to  have  me  fast  at  this 
spot/' 

The  next  day  he  went  but  a  short  distance.  She 
cried  out,  "  A  little  further  off ;"  but  he  came  nearer 
to  the  lodge,  the  rogue  that  he  was,  and  cried  out  in 

10* 


226  THE    INDIAN    FAIKY    BOOK. 

a  low,  counterfeited  voice,  to  make  it  appeal  that  he 
was  going  away  instead  of  approaching.  He  had  now 
got  so  near  that  he  could  see  all  that  passed  in  the 
lodge 

He  had  not  been  long  in  ambush  when  an  old 
magician  crept  into  the  lodge.  This  old  magician 
had  very  long  hair,  which  hung  across  his  shoulders 
and  down  his  back,  like  a  bush  or  foot-mat.  They 
commenced  talking  about  him,  and  in  doing  so,  they 
put  their  two  old  heads  so  very  close  together  that 
Manabozho  was  satisfied  they  were  kissing  each  other. 
He  was  indignant  that  any  one  should  take  such  a 
liberty  with  his  venerable  grandmother,  and  to  mark 
his  sense  of  the  outrage,  he  touched  the  bushy  hair 
of  the  old  magician  with  a  live  coal  which  he  had 
blown  upon.  The  old  magician  had  not  time  to  kiss 
the  old  grandmother  more  than  once  again  before  he 
felt  the  flame;  and  jumping  out  into  the  air,  it 
burned  only  the  fiercer,  and  he  ran,  blazing  like  a 
fire-ball,  across  the  prairie. 

Manabozho  who  had,  meanwhile,  stolen  off  to  his 
fasting-place,  cried  out,  in  a  heart-broken  tone,  and 
as  if  on  the  very  point  of  starvation,  "Noko!  Noko! 
is  it  time  for  me  to  come  home?" 

"  Yes,"  she  cried.  And  when  he  came  in  she  asked 
him,  "  Did  you  see  any  thing  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered,  with  an  air  of  childish 
candor;  looking  as  much  like  a  big  simpleton  as  he 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.        227 

could  The  grandmother  looked  at  him  very  closely- 
and  said  no  more. 

Manabozho  finished  his  term  of  fasting;  in  the 
course  of  which  he  slyly  dispatched  twenty  fat  bears, 
six  dozen  birds,  and  two  fine  moose;  sung  his  war- 
song,  and  embarked  in  his  canoe,  fully  prepared  for 
war.  Beside  weapons  of  battle,  he  had  stowed  in  a 
large  supply  of  oil. 

He  traveled  rapidly  night  and  clay,  for  he  had 
only  to  will  or  speak,  and  the  canoe  went.  At 
length  he  arrived  in  sight  of  the  fiery  serpents.  He 
paused  to  view  them;  he  observed  that  they  were 
some  distance  apart,  and  that  the  flames  which  they 
constantly  belched  forth  reached  across  the  pass.  He 
gave  them  a  good  morning,  and  began  talking  with 
them  in  a  very  friendly  way;  but  they  answered, 
"  We  know  you,  Manabozho;  you  can  not  pass." 

He  was  not,  however,  to  be  put  off  so  easily.  Turn 
ing  his  canoe  as  if  about  to  go  back,  he  suddenly 
cried  out  with  a  loud  and  terrified  voice  : 

"  What  is  that  behind  you  ?" 

The  serpents,  thrown  off  their  guard,  instantly 
turned  their  heads,  and  he  in  a  moment  glided  past 
them. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  quietly,  after  he  had  got  by, 
"  how  do  you  like  my  movement  ?" 

He  then  took  up  his  bow  and  arrows,  and  with  de 
liberate  aim  shot  every  one  of  them,  easily,  for  the 

* 


228  THE     INDIAN      FAIRY     BOOK. 

serpents  were  fixed  to  one  spot,  and  could  not  even 
turn  around.  They  were  of  an  enormous  length,  and 
of  a  bright  color. 

Having  thus  Escaped  the  sentinel  serpents,  Mana- 
bozho  pushed  on  in  his  canoe  until  he  came  to  a  part 
of  the  lake  called  Pitch-water,  as  whatever  touched 
it  was  sure  to  stick  fast.  But  Manabozho  was  pre 
pared  with  his  oil,  and  rubbing  his  canoe  freely  from 
end  to  end,  he  slipped  through  with  ease,  and  he  was 
the  first  person  who  had  ever  succeeded  in  passing 
through  the  Pitch- water. 

"  There  is  nothing  like  a  little  oil  to  help  one 
through  pitch-water,"  said  Manabozho  to  himself. 

Now  in  view  of  land,  he  could  see  the  lodge  of  the 
Shining  Manito,  high  upon  a  distant  hill. 

Putting  his  clubs  and  arrows  in  order,  just  at  the 
dawn  of  day  Manabozho  began  his  attack,  yelling 
and  shouting,  and  beating  his  drum,  and  calling  out 
in  triple  voices  : 

"  Surround  him  !  surround  him  !  run  up  !  run 
up  !"  making  it  appear  that  he  had  many  followers. 
He  advanced,  shouting  aloud  : 

"  It  was  you  that  killed  my  grandfather,"  and  shot 
off  a  whole  forest  of  arrows. 

The  Pearl  Feather  appeared  on  the  height,  blazing 
like  the  sun,  and  paid  back  the  discharges  of  Mana 
bozho  with  a  tempest  of  bolts,  which  rattled  like  the 
hail. 
* 


THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.          229 

All  day  long  the  fight  was  kept  up,  and  Mana- 
bozho  had  fired  all  of  his  arrows  but  three,  without 
effect  ;  for  the  Shining  Manito  was  clothed  in  pure 
wampum.  It  was  only  by  immense  leaps  to  right 
and  left  that  Manabozho  could  save  his  head  .from 
the  sturdy  blows  which  fell  about  him  on  eveiy  side, 
like  pine-trees,  from  the  hands  of  the  Manito.  He 
was  badly  bruised,  and  at  his  very  wit's  end,  when  a 
large  wood-pecker  flew  past  and  lit  on  a  tree.  It 
was  a  bird  he  had  known  on  the  prairie,  near  his 
grandmother's  lodge. 

"  Manabozho,"  called  out  the  wood-pecker,  "  your 
enemy  has  a  weak  point ;  shoot  at  the  lock  of  hair  on 
the  crown  of  his  head." 

He  shot  his  first  arrow  and  only  drew  blood  in  a 
few  drops.  The  Manito  made  one  or  two  unsteady 
steps,  but  recovered  himself.  He  began  to  parley, 
but  Manabozho,  now  that  he  had  discovered  a  way  to 
reach  him,  was  in  no  humor  to  trifle,  and  he  let  slip 
another  arrow,  which  brought  the  Shining  Manito 
to  his  knees.  And  -now,  having  the  crown  of  his 
head  within  good  range,  Manabozho  sent  in  his  third 
arrow,  which  laid  the  Manito  out  upon  the  ground, 
stark  dead. 

Manabozho  lifted  up  a  huge  war-cry,  beat  his 
drum,  took  the  scalp  of  the  Manito  as  his  trophy, 
and  calling  the  wood-pecker  to  come  and  receive  a  re 
ward  for  the  timely  hint  he  had  given  him,  he  rubbed 


230  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

the  blood  of  the  Shining  Manito  on  the  wood-peck 
er's  head,  the  feathers  of  which  are  red  to  this  day. 
Full  of  his  victory,  Manabozho  returned  home,  beat 
ing  his  war-drum  furiously,  and  shouting  aloud  his 
songs  of  triumph.  His  grandmother  was  on  the 
shore  ready  to  welcome  him  with  the  war-dance, 
which  she  performed  with  wonderful  skill  for  one  so 
far  advanced  in  years. 

The  heart  of  Manabozho  swelled  within  him.  He 
was  fairly  on  fire,  and  an  unconquerable  desire  for  fur 
ther  adventures  seized  upon  him.  He  had  destroyed 
the  powerful  Pearl  Feather,  killed  his  serpents,  and 
escaped  all  his  wiles  and  charms.  He  had  prevailed 
in  a  great  land  fight,  his  next  trophy  should  be  from 
the  water. 

He  tried  his  prowess  as  a  fisherman,  and  with  such 
success  that  he  captured  a  fish  so  monstrous  in  size 
and  so  rich  in  fat  that  with  the  oil  Manabozho  was 
able  to  form  a  small  lake.  To  this,  being  generously 
disposed,  and  having  a  cunning  purpose  of  his  own 
to  answer,  he  invited  all  the  birds  and  beasts  of  his 
acquaintance ;  and  he  made  the  order  in  which 
they  partook  of  the  banquet  the  measure  of  their  fat 
ness  for  all  time  to  come.  As  fast  as  they  arrived  he 
told  them  to  plunge  in  and  help  themselves. 

The  first  to  make  his  appearance  was  the  bear, 
who  took  a  long  and  steady  draught ;  then  came  the 
deer,  the  opossum,  and  such  others  of  the  family  as 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF- MAKEtf.         231 

are  noted  for  their  comfortable  case.  The  moose  and 
bison  were  slack  in  their  cups,  and  the  partridge,  al 
ways  lean  in  flesh,  looked  on  till*the  supply  was 
nearly  gone.  There  was  not  a  drop  left  by  the  time 
the  hare  and  the  marti*  appeared  on  the  shore  of  the 
lake,  and  they  are,  in  consequence,  the  slenderest  of 
all  creatures. 

When  this  ceremony  was  over,  Manabozho  sug 
gested  to  his  friends,  the  assembled  birds  and  ani 
mals,  that  the  occasion  was  proper  for  a  little  merry 
making  ;  and  taking  up  his  drum,  he  cried  out  : 

"  New  songs  from  the  South,  come,  brothers, 
dance  \" 

He  directed  them,  to  make  the  sport  more  mirth 
ful,  that  they  should  shut  their  eyes  and  pass  around 
him  in  a  circle.  Again  he  beat  his  drum  and  cried 
out : 

"New  songs  'from  the  South,  come,  brothers, 
dance  !" 

They  all  fell  in  and  commenced  their  rounds. 
Whenever  Manabozho,  as  he  stood  in  the  circle,  saw 
a  fat  fowl  which  he  fancied,  pass  by  him,  he  adroitly 
wrung  its  neck  and  slipped  it  in  his  girdle,  at  the 
same  time  beating  his  drum  and  singing  at  the  top 
of  his  lungs,. to  drown  the  noise  of  the  fluttering,  and 
crying  out  in  a  tone  of  admiration  : 

"  That 'B  the  way,  my  brothers  ;  that 's  the  way  I" 

At  last  a  small  duck,  of  the  diver  family,  thinking 


232  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

there  was  something  wrong,  opened  one  eye  and  saw 

what  Manahozho  was  doing.     Giving  a  spring,  and 

.  • 
crying : 

"  Ha-ha-a  !  Manabozho  is  killing  us  !"  he  made 
for  the  water. 

Manabozho,  quite  vexed  that  the  creature  should 
have  played  the  spy  upon  his  house-keeping,  followed 
him,  and  just  as  the  diver-duck  was  getting  into  the 
water,  gave  him  a  kick,  which  is  the  reason  that 
the  diver's  tail-feathers  are  few,  his  back  flattened, 
and  his  legs  straightened  out,  so  that  when  he  gets 
on  land  he  makes  a  poor  figure  in  walking. 

Meantime,  the  other  birds,  having  no  ambition  to 
be  thrust  in  Manabozho's  girdle,  flew  off,  and  the 
animals  scampered  into  the  woods. 

Manabozho  stretching  himself  at  ease  in  the  shade 
along  the  side  of  the  prairie,  thought  what  he  should 
do  next.  He  concluded  that  he  would  travel  and  see 
new  countries;  and  having  once  made  up  his  mind,  in 
less  than  three  days,  such  was  his  length  of  limb  and 
the  immensity  of  his  stride,  he  had  walked  over  the 
entire  continent,  looked  into  every  lodge  by  the  way, 
and  with  such  nicety  of  observation,  that  he  was  able 
to  inform  his  good  old  grandmother  what  each  family 
had  for  a  dinner  at  a  given  hour. 

By  way  of  relief  to  these  grand  doings,  Manabozho 
was  disposed  to  vary  his  experiences  by  bestowing  a 
little  time  upon  the  sports  of  the  woods.  He  had 


MANABOZHO,    THE     MISCHIEF-MAKER.        233 

heard  reported  great  feats  in  hunting,  and  he  had  a 
desire  to  try  his  power  in  that  way.  Besides  that,  it 
was  a  slight  consideration  that  he  had  devoured  all 
the  game  within  reach  of  the  lodge;  and  so,  one 
evening,  as  he  was  walking  along  the  shore  of  the 
great  lake,  weary  and  hungry,  he  encountered  a  great 
magician  in  the  form  of  an  old  wolf,  with  six  young 
ones,  coming  toward  him. 

The  wolf  no  sooner  caught  sight  of  him  than  he 
told  his  whelps,  who  were  close  about  his  side,  to  keep 
out  of  the  way  of  Manabozho;  "For  I  know,"  he 
said,  "  that  it  is  that  mischievous  fellow  whom  we  see 
yonder." 

The  young  wolves  were  in  the  act  of  running  off, 
when  Manabozho  cried  out,  "  My  grandchildren, 
where  are  you  going?  Stop  and  I  will  go  with  you.  I 
wish  to  have  a  little  chat  with  your  excellent  father." 

Saying  which  he  advanced  and  greeted  the  old 
wolf,  expressing  himself  as  delighted  at  seeing  him 
looking  so  well.  "  Whither  do  you  journey  ?"  he 
asked. 

"We  are  looking  for  a  good  hunting-ground  to 
pass  the  winter,"  the  <old  wolf  answered.  "  What 
brings  you  here  ?" 

"  1  was  looking  for  you/'  said  Manabozho.  "  For 
I  have  a  passion  for  the  chase,  brother.  I  always  ad 
mired  your  family;  are  you  willing  to  change  me  into 
a  wolf  ?" 


234  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

The  wolf  gave  him  a  favorable  answer,  and  he  was 
forthwith  changed  into  a  wolf. 

"  Well,  that  will  do/'  said  Manabozho ;  then 
looking  at  his  tail,  he  added,  "  Oh !  could  you 
oblige  me  by  making  my  tail  a  little  longer  and 
more  bushy." 

"  Certainly/'  said  the  old  wolf ;  and  he  gave  Mana 
bozho  such  a  length  and  spread  of  tail,  that  it  was 
constantly  getting  between  his  legs,  and  it  was  so 
heavy  that  it  was  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  find 
strength  to  carry  it.  But  having  asked  for  it,  he  was 
ashamed  to  say  a  word;  and  -they  all  started  off  in 
company,  dashing  up  a  ravine. 

After  getting  into  the  woods  for  some  distance, 
they  fell  in  with  the  tracks  of  moose.  The  young 
ones  scampered  off  in  pursuit,"  the  old  wolf  and  Mana 
bozho  following  at  their  leisure. 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  wolf,  by  way  of  opening  dis 
course,  "who  do  you  think  is  the  fastest  of  the  boys? 
Can  you  tell  by  the  jumps  they  take?" 

"Why,"  he  replied,  "that  one  that  takes  such 
long  jumps,  he  is  the  fastest  to  be  sure." 

"Ha!  ha!  you  are  mistaken,"  said  the  old  wolf. 
"  He  makes  a  good  start,  but  he  will  be  the  first  to 
tire  out;  this  one,  who  appears  to  be  behind,  will  be 
the  one  to  kill  the  game.'" 

By  this  time  they  had  come  to  the  spot  where  the 
boys  had  started  in  chase.  One  had  dropped  wha* 


MANABOZHO,    THE   MISCHIE  F-M  AKEB.        235 

seemed  to  be  a  small  medicine-sack,  which  he  carried 
for  the  use  of  the  hunting-party. 

"  Take  that,  Mariabozho,"  said  the  old  wolf. 

"  Esa,"  he  replied,  "  what  will  I  do  with  a  dirty 
dog-skin?" 

The  old  wolf  took  it  up;  it  was  a  beautiful  rebe. 

"  Oh,  I  will  carry  it  now/'  cried  Manabozho. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  old  wolf,  who  had  exerted  his 
magical  powers,  "  it  is  a  robe  of  pearls.  Corne  along  \" 
And  away  sped  the  old  wolf  at  a  great  rate  of  speed. 

"  Not  so  fast,"  called  Manabozho  after  him ;  and 
then  he  added  to  himself  as  he  panted  after,  "  Oh, 
this  tail !" 

Coming  to  a  place  where  the  rnoose  had  lain  down, 
they  saw  that  the  young  wolves  had  made  a  fresh 
start  after  their  prey. 

"  Why,"  said  the  old  wolf,  "  this  moose  is  poor.  I 
know  Tby  the  traces;  for  I  can  always  tell  whether 
they  are  fat  or  not." 

A  little  further  on,  one  of  the  young  wolves,  in 
dashing  at  the  moose,  had  broken  a  tooth  on  a  tree. 

"  Manabozho,"  said  the  old  wolf,  "  one  of  your 
grandchildren  has  shot  at  the  game.  Take  his  ar 
row;  there  it  is." 

"No,"  replied  Manabozho;  "what  will  I  do  with  a 
dirty  dog's  tooth?" 

The  old.  wolf  took  it  up,  and  behold  it  was  a  beau 
tiful  silver  arrow. 


236  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

When  they  at  last  overtook  them,  they  found  that 
the  youngsters  had  killed  a  very  fat  moose.  Mana- 
bozho  was  very  hungry;  but  the  old  wolf  just  then 
again  exerted  his  magical  powers,  and  Manabozho  saw 
nothing  but  the  bones  picked  quite  clean.  He  thought 
to  himself,  "Just  as  I  expected;  dirty,  greedy  fellows. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  this  log  at  my  back,  I  should 
have  been  in  time  to  have  got  a  mouthful:"  and  he 

% 

cursed  the  bushy  tail  which  he  carried,  to  the  bottom 
of  his  heart.  He;  however,  sat  down  without  saying 
a  word. 

At  length  the  old  wolf  spoke  to  one  of  the  young 
ones,  saying  : 

"  Give  some  meat  to  your  grandfather/' 

One  of  them  obeyed,  and  coming  near  to  Manabo 
zho,  he  presented  him  the  other  end  of  his  own  bushy 
tail,  which  was  nicely  seasoned  with  burs,  gathered 
in  the  course  of  the  hunt.  * 

Manabozho  jumped  up  and  called  out : 

"  You  dog,  now  that  your  stomach  is  full,  do  you 
think  I  am  going  to  eat  you  to  get  at  my  dinner  ? 
Get  you  gone  into  some  other  place." 

Saying  which  Manabozho,  in  his  anger,  walked  off 
by  himself. 

"  Come  back,  brother,"  cried  the  wolf.  "  You  are 
losing  your  eyes."  0 

Manabozho  turned  back. 

"  You  do  the  child  injustice.     Look  there  !"  and 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.        23Y 

behold,  a  heap  of  fresh,  ruddy  meat,  was  lying  on  the 
spot,  already  prepared. 

Manabozho,  at  the  view  of  so  much  good  provision, 
put  on  a  smiling  face. 

"  Amazement  !"  he  said  ;  "  how  fine  the  meat  is  !" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  old  wolf,  "  it  is  always  so  with 
us  ;  we  know  our  work,  and  always  get  the  best.  It 
is  not  a  long  tail  that  makes  the  hunter." 

Manabozho  bit  his  lip. 

They  now  fixed  their  winter  quarters.  The  young 
sters  went  out  in  search  of  game,  and  they  soon 
brought  in  a  large  supply.  One  day,  during  the  ab 
sence  of  the  young  hunters,  the  old  wolf  amused  him 
self  in  cracking  the  large  bones  of  a  moose. 

"  Manabozho,"  said  he,  "  cover  your  head  with  the 
robe,  and  do  not  look  at  me  while  I  am  busy  with 
these  bones,  for  a  piece  may  fly  in  your  eye." 

He  did  as  he  was  bid  ;  but  looking  through  a  rent 
that  was  in  the  robe,  he  saw  what  the  other  was 
about. .  Just  at  that  moment  a  piece  flew  off  and  hit 
him  on  the  eye.  He  cried  out  : 

"  Tyau,  why  do  you  strike  me,  you  old  dog  ?" 

The  wolf  answered — "  You  must  have  been  look 
ing  at  me." 

"  No,  no,"  retorted  Manabozho,  "  why  should  I 
want  to  look  at  you  ?" 

"  Manabozho/'  said  the  old  wolf,  "  you  must  have 
been  looking  or  you  would  not  have  got  hurt." 


238  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"  No,  no,"  he  replied  again,  "  I  was  not.  I  will 
repay  the  saucy  wolf  this  mischief,"  he  thought  to 
himself. 

So  the  next  day,  taking  up  a  bone  to  obtain  the 
marrow,  he  said  to  the  wolf : 

"  Brother,  cover  your  head  and  do  not  look  at 
ine,  for  I  very  much  fear  a  piece  may  fly  in  your 
eye." 

The  wolf  did  so  ;  and  Manabozho,  taking  the  large 
leg-bone  of  the  moose,  first  looking  to  see  if  the  wolf 
was  well  covered,  hit  him  a  blow  with  all  his  might. 
The  wolf  jumped  up,  cried  out,  and  fell  prostrate 
from  the  effects  of  the  blow. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  when  he  came  to  a  little  and 
was  able  to  sit  up,  "  why  do  you  strike  me  so  ?" 

"  Strike  you  ?"  said  Manabozho,  with  well-feigned 
surprise,  "  no  ;  you  must  have  been  looking  at  mu" 

"  No,"  answered  the  wolf,  "  I  say  I  have  not." 

But  Manabozho  insisted,  and  as  the  old  wolf  7«is 
no  great  master  of  tricky  argument,  he  was  obliged 
to  give  it  up. 

Shortly  after  this  the  old  wolf  suggested  to  Mana 
bozho  that  he  should  go  out  and  try  his  luck  in  hurt 
ing  by  himself. 

When  he  chose  to  put  his  mmd  upon  it  he  was 
quite  expert,  and  this  time  he  succeeded  in  killing  a 
fine  fat  moose,  which  he  thought  he  would  take  aside 
slyly,  and  devour  alone,  having  prepared  to  tell  the 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.         239 

old  wolf  a  pretty  story  on  his  return,  to  account  fot 
liis  failure  to  bring  any  thing  with  him. 

He  was  very  hungry,  and  he  sat  down  to  eat ;  but 
as  he  never  could  go  to  work  in  .a  straight-forward 
way,  he  immediately  fell  into  great  doubts  as  to  the 
proper  point  at  which  to  begin. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  do  not  know  where  to  com 
mence.  At  the  head  ?  No.  People  will  laugh,  and 
say — i  He  ate  him  backward/  " 

He  went  to  the  side.  "  No,"  said  he,  "  they  will 
say  I  ate  him  sideways." 

He  then  went  to  the  hind-quarter.  "  No,  that 
will  not  do,  either  ;  they  will  say  I  ate  him  forward. 
I  will  begin  here,  say  what  they  will." 

He  took  a  delicate  piece  from  the  small  of  the 
back,  and  was  just  on  the  point  of  putting  it  to  his 
mouth,  when  a  tree  close  by  made  a  creaking  noise. 
He  seemed  vexed  at  the  sound.  He  raised  the  mor 
sel  to  his  mouth  the  second  time,  when  the  tree 
creaked  again. 

"Why,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  can  not  eat  when  I 
hear  such  a  noise.  Stop,  stop  1"  he  said  to  the  tree. 
He  put  it  down,  exclaiming—-"  I  can  not  eat  with 
such  a  noise  ;"  and  starting  away  he  climbed  the 
tree,  and  was  pulling  at  the  limb  which  had  offended 
him,  when  his  fore-paw  was  caught  between  the 
branches  so  that  he  could  not  free  himself. 

While  thus  held  fast,  he  saw  a  pack  of  wolves  ad- 


240  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

vancing  through  the  wood  in  the  direction  of  his 
meat.  He  suspected  them  to  be  the  old  wolf  and 
his  cubs,  but  night  was  coming  on  and  he  could  not 
make  them  out. 

"  Go  the  other  way,  go  the  other  way  j"  he  cried 
out  ;  "  what  would  you  come  to  get  here  ?" 

The  wolves  stopped  for  a  while  and  talked  among 
themselves,  and  said  : 

"  Manabozho  must  have  something  there,  or  he 
would  not  tell  us  to  go  another  way." 

"  I  be<nn  to  know  him,"  said  an  old  wolf,  "  and  all 

O  /  ' 

his  tricks.     Let  us  go  forward  and  see." 

They  came  on,  and  finding  the  moose,  they  soon 
made  away  with  it.  Manabozho  looked  wistfully  on 
to  see  them  eat  till  they  were  fully  satisfied,  when 
they  scampered  off  in  high  spirits. 

A  heavy  blast  of  wind  opened  the  branches  and  re 
leased  Manabozho,  who  found  that  the  wolves  had 
left  nothing  but  the  bare  bones.  He  made  for  home, 
where,  when  he  related  his  mishap,  the  old  wolf,  tak 
ing  him  by  the  fore-paw,  condoled  with  him  deeply 
on  his  ill-luck.  A  tear  even  started  to  his  eye  as  he 
added  : 

"  My  brother,  this  should  teach  us  not  to  meddle 
with  points  of  ceremony  when  we  have  good  meat  to 
eat." 

The  winter  having  by  this  time  drawn  fairly  to  a 
close,  on  a  bright  morning  in  the  early  spring,  the  old 


THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER  241 

wolf  addressed  Manabozho :  "  My  brother,  I  am 
obliged  to  leave  you;  and  although  I  have  sometimes 
been  merry  at  your  expense,  I  will  show  that  I  care 
for  your  comfort.  I  shall  leave  one  of  the  boys  be 
hind  me  to  be  your  hunter,  and  to  keep  you  company 
through  the  long  summer  afternoons." 

The  old  wolf  galloped  ofTwith  his  five  young  ones; 
and  as  they  disappeared"  from  view,  Manabozho  was 
disenchanted  in  a  moment,  and  returned  to  his  mor 
tal  shape. 

Although  he  had  been  sometimes  vexed  and  im 
posed  upon,  he  had,  altogether,  passed  a  pleasant 
winter  with  the  cunning  old  wolf,  and  now  that  he 
was  gone,  Manabozho  was  downcast  and  low  in  spirit. 
But  as  the  days  grew  brighter  he  recovered  by  de 
grees  his  air  of  cheerful  confidence,  and  was  ready 
to  try  his  hand  upon  any  new  adventure  that  might 
occur  to  him.  The  old  spirit  of  mischief  was  still 
alive  within  him. 

The  young  wolf  who  had  been  left  with  him  was  a 
good  hunter,  and  never  failed  to  keep  the  lodge  well 
supplied  with  meat.  One  day  Manabozho  addressed 
him  as  follows  : 

"  My  grandson,  I  had  a  dream  last  night,  and  it 
does  not  portend  good.  It  is  of  the  large  lake  which 
lies  in  that  direction.  You  must  be  careful  to  always 
go  across  it,  whether  the  ice  seem  strong  or  not. 
Never  go  around  it,  for  there  are  enemies  on  the 

11 


242  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY     BOOK. 

further  shore  who  lie  in  wait  for  you.  The  ice  is 
always  safe." 

Now  Manabozho  knew  well  that  the  ice  was  thin 
ning  every  day  under  the  warm  sun,  but  he  could  not 
stay  himself  from  playing  a  trick  upon  the  young 
wolf. 

In  the  evening  when  he  came  to  the  lake,  after  a 
long  day's  travel  in  quest  of  game,  the  young  wolf, 
confiding  in  his  grandfather,  said,  "Hwooh!  the  ice 
does  look  thin,  but  Ncsho  says  it  is  sound;"  and  he 
trotted  upon  the  glassy  plain. 

He  had  not  got  half  way  across  when  the  ice  snap 
ped,  and  with  a  mournful  cry,  the  young  wolf  fell  in 
and  was  immediately  seized  by  the  water-serpents, 
who  knew  that  it  was  ManaMzho's  grandson,  and 
were  thirsting  for  revenge  upon  him  for  the  death  of 
their  relations  in  the  war  upon  Pearl  Feather. 

Manabozho  heard  the  young  wolf's  cry  as  he  sat  in 
his  lodge;  he  knew  what  had  happened;  and,  from 
that  moment,  he  was  deprived  of  the  greater  part  of 
his  magical  power. 

He  returned,  scarcely  more  than  an  ordinary  mor 
tal,  to  his  former  place  of  dwelling,  whence  his 
grandmother  had  departed  no  one  knew  Cither.  He 
married  the  arrow-maker's  daughter,  and  became  the 
father  of  several  children,  and  very  poor.  He,  was 
scarcely  able  to  procure  the  means  of  living.  His 
lodge  was  pitched  in  a  remote  part  of  the  country, 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.       243 

where  lie  could  get  no  game.  It  was  winter,  and  he 
had  not  the  common  comforts  of  life.  He  said  to  his 
wife  one  day,  "  I  will  go  out  a  walking  and  see  if  I 
can  not  find  some  lodges." 

After  walking  some  time  he  saw  a  lodge  at  a  dis 
tance.  The  children  were  playing  at  the  door.  When 
they  saw  him  approaching  they  ran  in  and  told  their 
parents  that  Manabozho  was  coming. 

It  was  the  residence  of  the  large  red-headed  wood 
pecker.  He  came  to  the  door  and  asked  Manabozho 
to  enter.  This  invitation  was  promptly  accepted. 

After  some  time,  the  woodpecker,  who  was  a 
magician,  said  to  his  wife  : 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  give  Manabozho  ?  he  must 
be  hungry." 

She  answered,  "  'No." 

"  He  ought  not  to  go  without  his  supper,"  said  the 
woodpecker.  "  I  will  see  what  I  can  do." 

In  the  center  of  the  lodge  stood  a  large  tamarack- 
tree.  Upon  this  the  woodpecker  flew,  and  com 
menced  going  up;  turning  his  head  on  each  side  of 
the  tree,  and  every  now  and  then  driving  in  his  bill. 
At  last  he  pulled  something  out  of  the  tree  and 
threw  it  down;  when,  behold,  a  fine  fat  raccoon  lay 
on  the  ground.  He  drew  out  six  or  seven  more.  He 
then  descended,  and  told  his  wife  to  prepare  them. 

"  Manabozho,"  he  said,  "  this  is  the  only  thing  we 
eat;  what  else  can  we  give  you  ?" 


244  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

* 

"  It  is  very  good/'  replied  Manabozho. 

They  smoked  their  pipes  and  conversed  with  each 
other. 

After  eating,  Manabozho  got  ready  to  go  home; 
when  the  woodpecker  said  to  his  wife,  "  Give  him 
the  other  raccoons  to  take  home  for  his  children." 
'  In  the  act  of  leaving  the  lodge,  Manabozho,  on 
purpose,  dropped  one  of  his  mittens,  which  was  soon 
after  observed  upon  the  ground. 

"  Bun,"  said  the  woodpecker  to  his  eldest  son, 
"and  give  it  to  him;  but  mind  that  you  do  not  give 
it  into  his  hand;  throw  it  at  him,  for  there  is  no 
knowing  him,  he  acts  so  curiously." 

The  boy  did  as  he  was  directed. 

"  Grandfather,"  said  he  to  Manabozho,  as  he  came 
up  to  him,  "  you  have  left  one  of  your  mittens;  here 
it  is." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  affecting  to  be  ignorant  of  the  cir 
cumstance,  "  it  is  so;  but  don't  throw  it,  you  will 
soil  it  on  the  snow." 

The  lad,  however,  threw  it,  and  was  about  to  re 
turn,  when  Manabozho  cried  out,  "  Bakah!  Bakah! 
stop — stop;  is  that  all  you  eat  ?  Do  you  eat  nothing 
else  with  your  raccoon  ?  tell  me!" 

"  Yes,  that  is  all,"  answered  the  young  Wood 
pecker;  "  we  have  nothing  else." 

"  Tell  your  father,"  continued  Manabozho,  "  to 
come  and  visit  me,  and*  let  him  bring  a  sack.  I 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.       245 

will  give  him  what   he  shall  eat  with  his  raccoon- 
meat." 

When  the  young  one  returned  and  reported  this 
message  to  his  father,  the  old  woodpecker  turned  up 

his  nose   at  the  invitation.      "  I  wonder,"  he  said. 

3  * 

"  what  he  thinks  he  has  got,  poor  fellow!" 

He  was  bound,  however,  to  answer  the  proffer  of 
hospitality,  and  he  went  accordingly,  taking  along  a 
cedar-sack,  to  pay  a  visit  to  Manabozho. 

Manabozho  received  the  old  fbd-headed  wood 
pecker  with  great  ceremony.  He  had  stood  at  the 
door  awaiting  his  arrival,  and  as  soon  as  he  came  in 
sight  Manabozho  commenced,  while  he  was  yet  far 
off,  bowing  and  opening  wide  his  arms,  in  token  of 
welcome;  all  of  which  the  woodpecker  returned  in  due 
form,  by  ducking  his  bill,  and  hopping  to  right 
and  left,  upon  the  ground,  extending  his  wings  to 
their  full  length  and  fluttering  them  back  to  his 
breast. 

When  the  woodpecker  at  last  reached  the  lodge, 
Manabozho  made  various  remarks  upon  the  weather, 
the  appearance  of  the  country,  and  especially  on  the 
scarcity  of  game. 

"Bat  we,"  he  added,  "we  always  have  enough. 
Come  in,  and  you  shall  not  go  away  hungry,  my  no 
ble  bird  !" 

Manabozho  had  always  prided*  himself  on  being 
able  to  give  as  good  as  he  had  received  ;  and  to  be  up 


246  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

with  the  woodpecker,  he  had  shifted  his  lodge  so  as 
to  inclose  a  large  dry  tamarack-tree. 

"  What  can  I  give  you,"  said  he  to  the  wood 
pecker  ;  "  but  as  we  eat  so  shall  you  eat." 

With  this  he  hopped  forward,  and,  jumping  on  the 
tamarack-tree,  he  attempted  to  climb  it  just  as  he 
had  seen  the  woodpecker  do  in  his  own  lodge.  He 
turned  his  head  first  on  one  side,  then  on  the  other, 
in  the  manner  of  the  bird,  meanwhile  striving  to  go 
up,  and  as  often  slipping  down.  Ever  and  anon  he 
would  strike  the  tree  with  his  nose^  as  if  it  had  been 
a  bill,  and  draw  back,  but  he  pulled  out  no  raccoons  ; 
and  he  dashed  his  nose  so  often  against  the  trunk 
that  at  last  the  blood  began  to  flow,  and  he  tumbled 
down  senseless  upon  the  ground. 

The  woodpecker  started  up  with  his  drum  and 
rattle  to  restore  him,  and  by  beating  them  violently 
he  succeeded  in  bringing  him  to. 

As  soon  as  he  came  to  his  senses,  Manabozho  be 
gan  to  lay  the  blame  of  his  failure  upon  his  wife, 
saying  to  his  guest : 

"  JSTemesho,  it  is  this  woman-relation  of  yours — she 
is  the  cause  of  my  not  succeeding.  She  has  made 
me  a  worthless  fellow.  Before  I  took  her  I  also  could 
get  raccoons." 

The  woodpecker  said  nothing,  but  flying  on  the 
tree  he  drew  out  several  fine  raccoons. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  this  is  the  way  we  do  !"  and 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.       247 

left  him  in  disdain,  carrying  his  bill  high  in  the  air, 
and  stepping  over  the  door-sill  as  if  it  were  not  wor 
thy  to  be  touched  by  his  toes. 

After  this  visit,  Manabozho  was  sitting  in  the 
lodge  one  day  with  his  head  down.  He  heard  the 
wind  whistling  around  it,  and  thought  that  by 
attentively  listening  he  could  hear  the  voice  of 
some  one  speaking  to  him.  It  seemed  to  say  to 
him  :  . 

"  Great  chief,  why  are  you  sorrowful  ?  Am  not  I 
your  friend — your  guardian  spirit  ?" 

Manabozho  immediately  took  up  his  rattle,  and 
without  rising  from  the  ground  where  he  was  sitting, 
began  to  sing  the  chant  which  has  at  every  close  the 
refrain  of,  "  Wha  lay  le  aw." 

When  he  had  dwelt  for  a  long  time  on  this  pecu 
liar  chant,  which  he  had  been  used  to  sing  in  all  his 
times  of  trouble,  he  laid  his  rattle  aside  and  deter 
mined  to  fast.  For  this  purpose  he  went  to  a  cave 
which  faced  the  setting  sun,  and  built  a  very  small 
fire,  near  which  he  lay  down,  first  telling  his  wife  that 
neither  she  nor  the  children  must  come  near  him  till 
he  had  finished  his  fast. 

% 

At  the  end  of  seven  days  he  came  back  to  the 
lodge,  pale  and  thin,  looking  like  a  spirit  himself,  and 
as  if  he  had  seen  spirits.  His  wife  had  in  the  mean 
time  dug  through  the  snow  and  got  a  few  of  the  root 
called  truffles.  These  she  boiled  and  set  before  him. 


248  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

and  this  was  all  the  food  they  had  or  seemed  likely 
to  obtain. 

When  he  had  finished  his  light  repast,  Manabozho 
took  up  his  station  in  the  door  to  see  what  would 
happen.  As  he  stood  thus,  holding  in  his  hand  his 
large  bow,  with  a  quiver  well  filled  with  arrows,  a 
deer  glided  past  along  the  far  edge  of  the  prairie,  but 
it  was  miles  away,  and  no  shaft  that  Manabozho 
could  shoot  would  be  able  to  touch  it. 

Presently  a  cry  came  down  the  air,  and  looking  up 
he  beheld  a  great  flight  of  birds,  but  they  were  so  far 
up  in  the  sky  that  he  would  have  lost  his  arrows  in  a 
vain  attempt  among  the  clouds. 

Still  he  stood  watchful,  and  confident  that  some 
turn  of  luck  was  about  to  occur,  when  there  came 
near  to  the  lodge  two  hunters,  who  bore  between 
them  on  poles  upon  their  shoulders,  a  bear,  and  it 
was  so  fine  and  fat  a  bear  that  it  was  as  much  as  the 
two  hunters  could  do  with  all  their  strength  to  carry  it. 

As  they  came  to  the  lodge-door,  one  of  the  hunters 
asked  if  Manabozho  lived  thereabout. 

"  He  is  here,"  answered  Manabozho. 

"  I  have  often  heard  of  you,"  said  the  first  hunter, 
"  and  I  was  curious  to  see  you.  But  you  have  lost 
your  magical  power.  Do  you  know  whether  any  of 
it  is  left  ?" 

Manabozho  answered  that  he  was  himself  in  tho 
dark  on  the  subject. 


MANABOZHO,    THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.       249 

"  Suppose  you  make  a  trial/7  said  the  hunter. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?"  asked  Manabozho. 

"  There  is  my  friend/'  said  the  hunter,  pointing  to 
his  companion,,  "  who  with  me  owns  this  hear  which 
we  are  carrying  home.  Suppose  you  see  if  you  can 
change  him  into  a  piece  of  rock." 

"  Very  well/'  said  Manabozho  ;  and  he  had  scarcely 
spoken  before  the  other  hunter  became  a  rock. 

"  Now  change  him  back  again/'  said  the  first 
hunter. 

"  That  I  can't  do/'  Manabozho  answered  ;  "  there 
my  power  ends." 

The  hunter  looked  at  the  rock  with  a  bewildered 
face. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?"  he  asked.  "  This  bear  I  can 
never  carry  alone,  and  it  was  agreed  between  my 
friend  there  and  myself,  that  we  should  not  divide  it 
till  we  reached  home.  Can't  you  change  my  friend 
tack,  Manabozho  ?" 

"  I  would  like  to  oblige  you,"  answered  Manabo 
zho,  "  but  it  is  utterly  out  of  my  power." 

With  this,  looking  again  at  the  rock  with  a  sad 
and  bewildered  face,  and  then  casting  a  sorrowful 
glance  at  the  bear,  which  lay  by  the  door  of  the  lodge, 
the  hunter  took  his  leave,  bewailing  bitterly  at  heart 
the  loss  of  his  friend  and  his  bear. 

He  was  scarcely  out  of  sight  when  Manabozho  sent 
the  children  to  get  red  willow  sticks.  Of  these  he 

11* 


250  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

cut  off  as  many  pieces,  of  equal  length,  as  would 
serve  to  invite  his  friends  among  the  beasts  and  birds 
to  a  feast.  A  red  stick  was  sent  to  each  one,  not  for 
getting  the  woodpecker  and  his  family. 

When  they  arrived  they  were  astonished  to  see 
such  an  abundance  of  meat  prepared  for  them  at 
such  a  time  of  scarcity.  Manabozho  understood 
their  glance,  and  was  proud  of  a  chance  to  make 
such  a  display. 

"  Akewazi,"  he  said  to  the  oldest  of  the  party, 
"  the  weather  is  very  cold,  and  the  snow  lasts  a  long 
time  ;  we  can  kill  nothing  now  but  small  squirrels, 
and  they  are  all  black  ;  and  I  have  sent  for  you  to 
help  rne  eat  some  of  them." 

The  woodpecker  was  the  first  to  try  a  mouthful 
of  the  bear's  meat,  but  he  had  no  sooner  began  to 
taste  it  than  it  changed  into  a  dry  powder,  and  set 
him  coughing.  It  appeared  as  bitter  as  ashes. 

The  moose  was  affected  in  the  same  way,  and  it 
brought  on  such  a  dry  cough  as  to  shake  every  bone 
in  his  body. 

One  by  one,  each  in  turn  joined  the  company  of 
coughers,  except  Manabozho  and  his  family,  to  whom 
the  bear's  meat  proved  very  savory. 

But  the  visitors  had  too  high  a  sense  of  what  was 
due  to  decorum  and  good  manners  to  say  any  thing. 
The  meat  looked  very  fine,  and  being  keenly  set  and 
strongly  tempted  by  its  promising  look,  they  thought 


THE    MISCHIEF-MAKER.         251 

they  would  try  more  of  it.  The  more  they  ate  the 
faster  they  coughed,  and  the  louder  became  the  up 
roar,  until  Manabozho,  exerting  the  magical  gift 
which  newfound  he  retained,  changed  them  all  into 
squirrels  ;  and  to  this  day  the  squirrel  suffers  from 
the  same  dry  cough  which  was  brought  on  by  at 
tempting  to  sup  off,  of  Manabozho's  ashen  bear's 
meat. 

And  ever  after  this  transformation,  when  Manabo- 
zho  lacked  provisions  for  his  family  he  would  hunt 
the  squirrel,  a  supply  of  which  never  failed  him,  so 
that  he  was  always  sure  to  have  a  number  of  his 
friends  present,  in  this  shape,  at  the  banquet. 

The  rock  into  which  he  changed  the  hunter,  and 
£0  became  possessed  of  the  bear,  and  thus  laid  the 
foundations  of  his  good  fortune,  ever  after  remained 
by  his  lodge-door,  and  it  was  called  the  Grame-Bag 
of  Manabozho,  the  Mischief-Maker. 


XIX. 

LEELINAU,  THE  LOST  DAUGHTEK, 

LEELINAU  was  the  favorite  daughter  of  a 
hunter,  who  lived  on  the  lake  shore  near  the 
base  of  the  lofty  highlands,  called  Kaug  Wudjoo. 

From  her  earliest  youth  she  was  observed  to  be 
thoughtful  and  retiring.  She  passed  much  of  her 
time  in  solitude,  and  seemed-  ever  to  prefer  the  com 
panionship  of  her  own  shadow  to  the  ^  society  of 
the  lodge-circle. 

Whenever  she  could  leave  her  father's  lodge  she 
would  fly  to  remote  haunts  and  recesses  in  the  woods, 
or  sit  in  lonely  reverie  upon  some  high  promontory 
of  rock  overlooking  the  lake.  In  such  places  she 
would  often,  with  her  face  turned  upward,  linger 
long  in  contemplation  of  the  air,  as  if  she  were  in 
voking  her  guardian  spirit,  and  beseeching  him  to 
lighten  her  sadness. 

But  amid  all  the  leafy  haunts,  none  drew  her  steps 
toward  it  so  often  as  a  forest  of  pines,  on  the  open 
shore,  called  Manitowok,  or  the  Sacred  Wood.  It 


LEELINATJ, THE    LOST    DAUGHTEK. 


253 


was  one  of  those  hallowed  places  which  is  the  resort 
of  the  little  wild  men  of  the  woods,  and  of  the  turtle 
spirits  or  fairies  which  delight  in  romantic  scenes. 
Owing  to  this  circumstance,  its  green  retirement  was 
seldom  visited  by  Indians,  who  feared  to  fall  under 
the  influence  of  its  mischievous  inhabitants. 

And  whenever  they  were  compelled  by  stress  of 
weather  to  make  a  landing  on  this  part  of  the  coast, 
they  never  failed  to  leave  an  offering  of  tobacco,  or 
some  other  token,  to  show  that  they  desired  to  stand 
well  wifch  the  proprietors  of  the  fairy  ground. 

To  this  sacred  spot  Leelinau  had  made  her  way  at 
an  early  age,  gathering  strange  flowers  and  plants, 
which  she  would  bring  home  to  her  parents,  and  re 
late  to  them  all  the  haps  and  mishaps  that  had  oc 
curred  in  her  rambles. 

Although  they  discountenanced  her  frequent  visits 
to  the  place,  they  were  not  able  to  restrain  them,  for 
she  was  of  so  gentle  and  delicate  a  temper  that  they 
feared  to  thwart  her. 

Her  attachment  to  the  fairy  wood,  therefore,  grew 
with  her  years.  If  shev  wished  to  solicit  her  spirits  to 
procure*  pleasant  dreams,  or  any  other  maiden  favor, 
Leelinau  repaired  to  the  Manitowok.  If  her  father 
remained  abroad  in  the  hunt  later  than  usual,  and  it 
was  feared  that  he  had  been  overwhelmed  by  the 
tempest,  or  had  met  with  some  other  mischance,  Lee 
linau  offered  uj  her  prayers  for  safety  at  the  Manito- 


254  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

wok.     It   was   there   that   she   fasted,    mused,    and 
strolled. 

She  at  length  became  so  engrossed  by  the  fairy 
pines  that  her  parents  began  to  suspect  that  some 
evil  spirit  had  enticed  her  to  its  haunts,  and  had  cast 
upon  her  a  charm  which  she  had  not  the  power  to 
resist. 

This  belief  was  confirmed  when,  one  day,  her 
mother,  who  had  secretly  followed  her,  overheard  her 
murmuring  to  some  unknown  and  invisible  compan 
ion,  appeals  like  these  : 

"  Spirit  of  the  dancing  leaves  !"  whispered  Leeli- 
nau,  "  hear  a  throbbing  heart  in  its  sadness.  Spirit 
of  the  foaming  stream  !  visit  thou  my  nightly  pillow, 
shedding  over  it  silver  dreams  of  mountain  brook  and 
pebbly  rivulet.  Spirit  of  the  starry  night  !  lead  my 
foot-prints  to  the  blushing  mis-kodeed,  or  where  the 
burning  passion-flower  shines  with  carmine  hue. 
Spirit  of  the  greenwood  plume  !"  she  concluded,  turn 
ing  with  passionate  gaze  to  the  beautiful  young  pines 
which  stood  waving  their  green  beauty  over  her  head, 
"  shed  on  me,  on  Leelinau  the  sad,  thy  leafy  fra 
grance,  such  as  spring  unfolds  from  sweetest  flowers, 
or  hearts  that  to  each  other  show  their  inmost  grief. 
Spirits  !  hear,  0  hear  a  maiden's  prayer  !" 

Day  by  day,  these  strange  communings  with  un 
seen  beings  drew  away  the  heart  of  Leelinau  more 
and  more  from  the  simple  duties  of  the  lodge,  and 


LEELINAU,    THE    LOST    DAUGHTER.        255 

she  walked  among  her  people,  melancholy  and  silent, 
like  a  spirit  who  had  visited  them  from  another  land. 

The  pastimes  which  engaged  the  frolic  moments 
of  her  young  companions,  passed  by  her  as  little  triv 
ial  pageants  in  which  she  had  no  concern. 

When  the  girls  of  the  neighboring  lodges  assembled 
to  play  at  the  favorite  female  game  of  pappus-e-ko- 
waun,  or  the  block  and  string,  before  the  lodge-door, 
Leelinau  would  sit  vacantly  by,  or  enter  so  feebly 
into  the  spirit  of  the  play  as  to  show  that  it  was  irk 
some  to  her. 

Again,  in  the  evening,  when  the  young  people 
formed  a  ring  around  the  lodge,  and  the  piepeend- 
jigun,  or  leather  and  bone,  passed  rapidly  from  one 
to  the  other,  she  either  handed  it  along  without  at 
tempting  to  play,  or  if  she  took  a  part,  it  was  with  no 
effort  to  succeed. 

The  time  of  the  corn-gathering  had  coine,  and  the 
young  people  of  the  tribe  were  assembled  in  the  field, 
busy  in  plucking  the  ripened  maize.  One  of  the  girls, 
noted  for  her  beauty,  had  found  a  red  ear,  and  every 
one  congratulated  her  that  a  brave  admirer  was  on 
his  way  to  her  father's  lodge.  She  blushed,  and 
hiding  the  trophy  in  her  bosom,  she  thanked  the 
Good  Spirit  that  it  was  a  red  ear,  and  not  a  crooked, 
that  she  had  found. 

Presently  it  chanced  that  one  who  was  there  among 
the  young  men,  espied  in  the  hands  of  Lselinau,  who 


256  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

had  plucked  it  indifferently,  one  of  the  crooked  kind, 
and  at  once  the  word  "  Wa-ge-min  !"  was  shouted 
aloud  through  the  field,  and  the  whole  circle  was  set 
in  a  roar. 

"  The  thief  is  in  the  corn-field  !"  exclaimed  the 
young  man,  lagoo  by  name,  and  famous  in  the  trihe 
for  his  mirthful  powers  of  story-telling  ;  "see  you  not 
the  old  man  stooping  as  he  enters  the  field  ?  See 
you  not  signs  that  he  crouched  as  he  crept  in  the 
dark  ?  Is  it  not  plain  by  this  mark  on  the  stalk  that 
he  was  heavily  bent  in  his  back  ?  Old  man  !  be 
nimble,  or  some  one  will  take  thee  while  thou  art 
taking  the  ear." 

These  questions  lagoo  accompanied  with  the  action 
of  one  bowed  with  age  stealthily  entering  the  corn 
field.  He  went  on  : 

"  See  how  he  stoops  as  he  breaks  off  the  ear. 
Nushka  !  He  seems  for  a  moment  to  tremble. 
Walker,  be  nimble  !  Hooh  !  It  is  plain  the  old  man 
is  the  thief." 

He  turned  suddenly  where  she  sat  in  the  circle, 
pensively  regarding  the  crooked  ear  which  she  held 
in  her  hand,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Leelinau,  the  old  man  is  thine  !" 

Laughter  rung  merrily  through  the  corn-field,  but 
Leelinau,  casting  down  upon  the  ground  the  crooked 
ear  of  maize,  walked  pensively  away. 

The  next  morning  the  eldest  son  of  a  neighboring 


LEELINAU,    THE    LOST    DAUGHTER. 


25' 


chief  called  at  her  father's  lodge.  He  was  quite  ad 
vanced  in  years;  but  he  enjoyed  such  renown  in  bat 
tle,  and  his  name  was  so  famous  in  the  hunt,  that 
the  parents  accepted  him  as  a  suitor  for  their  daugh 
ter.  They  hoped  that  his  shining  qualities  would 
draw  brack  the  thoughts  of  Leelinau  from  that  spirit- 
land  whither  she  seemed  to  have  wholly  directed  her 
affections. 

It  was  this  chief's  son  whom  lagoo  had  pictured 
as  the  corn-taker,  but,  without  objecting  to  his  age,  or 
giving  any  other  reason,  Leelinau  firmly  declined  his 
proposals.  The  parents  ascribed  the  young  daugh 
ter's  hesitancy  to  maiden  fear,  and  paying  no  further 
heed  to  her  refusal,  a  day  was  fixed  for  the  inarriagvi- 
visit  to  the  lodge. 

The  young  warrior  came  to  the  lodge-door,  ai^d 
Leelinau  refused  to  see  him;  informing  her  parents, 
at  the  same  time,  that  she  would  never  consent  to  the 
match. 

It  had  been  her  custom  to  pass  many  of  her  hours 
in  her  favorite  place  of  retirement,  under  a  broad- 
topped  young  pine,  whose  leaves  whispered  in  every 
wind  that  blew;  but  most  of  all  in  that  gentle  mur 
mur  of  the  air  at  the  evening  hour,  dear  to  lovers, 
when  the  twilight  steals  on. 

Thither  she  now  repaired,  and,  while  reclining  pen 
sively  against  the  young  pine-tree,  she  fancied  that 
she  heard  a  voice  addressing  her.  At  first  it  was 


258  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

scarcely  more  than  a  sigh;  presently  it  grew  more 
clear,  and  she  heard  it  distinctly  whisper — 

"  Maiden!  think  me  hot  a  tree;  hut  thine  own 
d<?ar  lover;  fond  to  be  with  thee  in  my  tall  and 
blooming  strength,  with  the  bright  green  nodding 
plume  that  waves  above  thee.  Thou  art  leaning  on 
my  breast,  Leelinau;  lean  forever  there  and  be  at 
peace.  Fly  from  men  who  are  false  and  cruel,  and  quit 
the  tumult  of  their  dusty  strife,  for  this  quiet,  lonely 
shade.  Over  thee  I  my  arms  will  fling,  fairer  than 
the  lodge's  roof.  I  will  breathe  a  perfume  like  that 
of  flowers  over  thy  happy  evening  rest.  In  my  bark 
canoe  I'll  waft  thee  o'er  the  waters  of  the  sky-blue 
lake.  I  will  deck  the  folds  of  thy  mantle  with  the 
sun's  last  rays.  Come,  and  on  the  mountain  free  rove 
a  fairy  bright  with  me!" 

Leelinau  drunk  in  with  eager  ear  these  magical 
words.  Her  heart  was  fixed.  No  warrior's  son  should 
clasp  her  hand.  She  listened  in  the  hope  to  hear  the 
airy  voice  speak  more;  but  it  only  repeated,  "  Again! 
again!"  and  entirely  ceased. 

On  the  eve  of  the  day  fixed  for  her  marriage,  Lee 
linau  decked  herself  in  her  best  garments.  She 
arranged  her  hair  according  to  the  fashion  of  her 
tribe,  and  put  on  all  of  her* maiden  ornaments  in 
beautiful  array.  With  a  smile,  she  presented  herself 
before  her  parents. 

"  I  am  going,"  she  said,  "  to  meet  my  little  lover, 


THE     LOST     DAUGHTER.       259 

the  chieftain  of  the  Green  Plume,  who  is  waiting  for 
me  at  the  Spirit  Grove." 

Her  face  was  radiant  with  joy,  and  the  parents, 
taking  what  she  had  said  as  her  own  fanciful  way  of 
expressing  acquiescence  in  their  plans,  wished  hei 
good  fortune  in  the  happy  meeting. 

;t  I  am  going,"  she  continued,  addressing  her 
mother  as  they  left  the  lodge,  "  I  am  going  from  one 
who  has  watched  my  infancy  and  guarded  my  youth  ; 
who  has  given  me  medicine  when  I  was  sick,  and 
prepared  my  food  when  I  was  well.  I  am  going  from 
a  father  who  has  ranged  the  forest  to  procure  the 
choicest  skins  for  my  dress,  and  kept  his  lodge  sup 
plied  with  the  best  spoil  of  the  chase.  I  am  going 
from  a  lodge  which  has  been  my  shelter  "from  the 
storms  of  winter,  and  my  shield  from  the  heats  of 
summer.  Farewell,  my  parents,  farewell !" 

So  saying,  she  sped  faster  than  any  could  follow  her 
to  the  margin  of  the  fairy  wood,  and  in  a  moment  was 
lost  to  sight. 

As  she  had  often  thus  withdrawn  herself  from  the 
lodge,  the  parents  were  not  in  fear,  but  confidently 
awaited  her  return.  Hour  chased  hour,  as  the  clouds 
of  evening  rolled  up  in  the  west;  darkness  came  on, 
but  no  daughter  returned.  With  torches  they  hast 
ened  to  the  wood,  and  although  they  lit  up  every  dark 
recess  and  leafy  gloom,  their  search  was  in  vain. 
Leelinau  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  They  called 


260  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

aloud,  in  lament,  upon  her  name,  but  she  answered 
not. 

Suns  rose  and  set,  but  nevermore  in  their  light  did 
the  bereaved  parents  eyes  behold  the  lost  form  of 
their  beloved  child.  Their  daughter  was  lost  indeed. 
Whither  she  had  vanished  no  mortal  tongue  could 
tell;  although  it  chanced  that  a  company  of  fisher 
men,  who  were  spearing  fish  near  the  Spirit  Grove, 
descried  something  that  seemed  to  resemble  a  female 
figure  standing  on  the  shore.  As  the  evening  was 
mild  and  the  waters  calm,  they  cautiously  pulled 
their  canoe  toward  land,  but  the  slight  ripple  of  their 
oars  excited  alarm.  The  figure  fled  in  haste,  but 
they  could  recognize  in  the  shape  and  dress  as  she 
ascended  the  bank,  the  lost  daughter,  and  they  saw 
the  green  plumes  of  her  fairy-lover  waving  over  his 
forehead  as  he  glided  lightly  through  the  forest  of 
young  pines. 


XX. 

YlIK   WINTER-SPIRIT  AND   HIS   VISITOR. 

AN  old  man  was  sitting  alone  in  his  lodge  by  the 
side  of  a  frozen  stream.  It  was  the  close  of 
winter,  and  his  fire  was  almost  out.  He  appeared 
very  old  and  very  desolate.  His  locks  were  white  with 
age,  and  he  trembled  in  every  joint.  Day  after  day 
passed  in  solitude,  and  he  heard  nothing  but  the 
sounds  of  the  tempest,  sweeping  before  it  the  new- 
fallen  snow? 

One  day  as  his  fire  was  just  dying,  a  handsome 
young  man  approached  and  entered  his  dwelling.  His 
cheeks  were  red  with  the  blood  of  youth;  his  eyes 
sparkled  with  life,  and  a  smile  played  upon  his  lips, 
He  walked  with  a  light  and  quick  step.  His  fore 
head  was  bound  with  a  wreath  of  sweet  grass,  in 
place  of  the  warrior's  frontlet,  and  he  carried  a  bunch 
of  flowers  in  his  hand 

"Ah!  my  son/'  said  the  old  man,  "  I  am  happy  to 
see  you.  Come  in.  Come,  tell  me  of  your  adven 
tures,  and  what  strange  lands  you  have  been  to  see. 


262  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

Let  us  pass  the  night  together.  I  will  tell  you  of  my 
prowess  and  exploits,  and  what  I  can  perform.  You 
shall  do  the  same,  and  we  will  amuse  ourselves." 

He  then  drew  from  his  sack  a  curiously-wrought 
antique  pipe,  and  having  filled  it  with  tobacco,  ren 
dered  mild  by  an  admixture  of  certain  dried  leaves, 
he  handed  it  to  bis  guest.  When  this  ceremony 
was  attended  to,  they  began  to4  speak. 

"  I  blow  my  breath,"  said  the  old  man,  "  and  the 
streams  stand  still.  The  water  becomes  stiff  and 
hard  as  clear  stone." 

"  I  breathe,"  said  the  young  man,  "  and  flowers 
spring  up  all  over  the  plains." 

"  I  shake  my  locks,"  retorted  the  old  man,  "  and 
snow  covers  the  land.  The  leaves  fall  from  the  trees 
at  my  command,  and  my  breath  blows  them  away. 
The  birds  rise  from  the  water  and  fly  fit  a  distant 
land.  The  animals  hide  themselves  from  the  glance 
of  my  eye,  and  the  very  ground  where  I  walk  be 
comes  as  hard  as  flint." 

"  I  shake  my  ringlets,"  rejoined  the  young  man, 
"  and  warm  showers  of  soft  rain  fall  upon  the  earth. 
The  plants  lift  up  their  heads  out  of  the  ground  like 
the  eyes  of  children  glistening  with  delight.  My 
voice  recalls  the  birds.  The  warmth  of  my  breath 
unlocks  the  streams.  Music  fills  the  groves  wherever 
I  walk,  and  all  nature  welcomes  my  approach/" 

At  length  the  sun  begun  to  rise.  A  gentle  warmth 


THE   WINTER-SPIRIT   AND    HIS   VISITOR.      263 

came  over  the  place.  The  tongue  of  the  old  man 
became  silent.  The  robin  and  the  blue-bird  began 
to  sing  on  the  top  of  the  lodge.  The  stream  began 
to  murmur  by  the  door,  and  the  fragrance  of  growing 
herbs  and  flowers  came  softly  on  the  vernal  breeze. 

Daylight  fully  revealed  to  the  young  man  the  char 
acter  of  his  entertainer.  When  he  looked  upon  him 
he  had  the  visage  of  Peboan,  the  icy  old  Winter- 
Spirit.  Streams  began  to  flow  from  his  eyes.  As  the 
sun  increapd  he  grew  less  and  less  in  stature,  and 
presently  he  had  melted  completely  away.  Nothing 
remained  on  the  place  of  his  lodge-fire  but  the  mis- 
kodeed,  a  small  white  flower  with  a  pink  border, 
which  the  young  visitor,  Seegwun,  the  Spirit  of 
Spring,  placed  in  the  wreath  upon  his  brow,  as  his 
first  trophy  in  the  North. 


XXI. 

THE  FIRE-PLUME. 

WASSAMO  was  living  with  his  parWtts  on  the 
shore  of  a  large  bay,  far  out  in  the  north-east. 

One  day,  when  the  season  had  commenced  for  fish 
to  be  plenty,  the  mother  of  Wassamo  said  to  him, 
"  My  son,  I  wish  you  would  go  to  yonder  point  and 
see  if  you  can  not  procure  me  some  fish;  and  ask  your 
cousin  to  accompany  you." 

He  did  so.  They  set  out,  and  in  the  course  of  the 
afternoon  they  arrived  at  the  fishing-ground. 

The  cousin,  being  the  elder,  attended  to  the  nets, 
and  they  encamped  near  by,  using  the  bark  of  the 
birch  for  a  lodge  to  shelter  them  through  the  night. 

They  lit  a  fire,  and  while  they  sat  conversing  with 
each  other,  the  moon  arose.  Not  a  breath  of  wind 
disturbed  the  smooth  surface  of  the  lake.  Not  a 
cloud  was  seen.  Wassamo  looked  out  on  the  water 
toward  their  nets,  and  he  saw  that  the  little  black 
spots,  which  were  no  other  than  the  floats,  dotting 
the  lake,  had  disappeared. 


THE    FIRE-PLUME.  265 

"  Cousin/'  lie  said,  "let  us  visit  our  nets;  perhaps 
we  are  fortunate." 

When  they  drew  up  the  nets  they  were  rejoiced 
to  see  the  meshes  shining  white,  all  over,  with  the 
glittering  prey.  They  landed  in  fine  spirits,  and  put 
away  their  canoe  in  safety  from  the  winds. 

"  Wassamo,"  said  the  cousin,  "  you  cook  that  we 
may  eat." 

Wassamo  set  about  the  work  at  once,  and  soon  had 
his  great  kettle  swung  upon  its  branch,  while  the 
cousin  lay  at  his  ease  upon  the  other  side  of  the 
fire. 

"  Cousin,"  said  Wassamo,  "  tell  me  stories  or  sing 
me  some  love-songs." 

The  cousin  obeyed,  and  sung  his  plaintive  songs; 
or  he  would  frequently  break  off  in  the  midst  of  a 
mournful  chant,  and  begin  to  recite  a  mirthful  story, 
and  then  in  the  midst  of  Wassamo's  laughter  he 
would  return  to  the  plaintive  ditty— just  as  it  suited 
his  fancy ;  for  the  cousin  was  gay  of  spirit,  and 
shifted  his  humor  faster  than  the  fleecy  clouds 
that  appeared  and  disappeared  in  the  night-sky  over 
their  heads.  In  this  changeful  pastime  the  cousin 
ran  his  length,  and  then  he  fell  away,  murmuring 
parts  of  his  song  or  story,  into  a  silvery  sleep;  with 
the  moon  gliding  through  the  branches  and  gilding 
his  face. 

Wassamo  in  the  mean  while  had  lost  the  sound  of 
12 


266  THE    INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

his  cousin's  voice  in  the  rich  simmer  of  the  kettle; 
and  when  its  music  pleased  his  ear  the  most,  as  an 
nouncing  that  the  fish  were  handsomely  cooked,  he 
lifted  the  kettle  from  the  fire.  He  spoke  to  his 
cousin,  but  he  received  no  answer. 

He  went  on  with  his  housekeeping  alone,  and  took 
the  wooden  ladle  and  skimmed  the  kettle  neatly,  for 
the  fish  were  very  plump  and  fat.  Wassamo  had  a 
torch  of  twisted  bark  in  one  hand  to  give  light,  and 
when  he  came  to  take  out  the  fish,  there  was  no  one 
to  have  charge  of  the  torch. 

The  cousin  was  so  happy  in  his  sleep,  with  the  sil 
ver  moon  kissing  his  cheeks,  as  though  she  were  en 
amored  of  his  fair  looks,  that  Wassamo  had  not  the 
heart  to  call  him  up. 

Binding  his  girdle  upon  his  brow,  in  this  he  thrust 
the  torch,  and  went  forward,  with  the  light  dancing 
through  the  green  leaves  at  every  turn  of  his  head, 
to  prepare  the  evening  meal. 

He  again  spoke  to  his  cousin,  but  gently,  to  learn 
whether  he  was  in  truth  asleep.  The  cousin  mur 
mured,  but  made  no  reply;  and  Wassamo  stepped 
softly  about  with  the  dancing  fire-plume  lighting  up 
the  gloom  of  the  forest  at  every  turn  he  made. 

Suddenly  he  heard  a  laugh  It  was  double,  or  the 
one  must  be  the  perfect  echo  of  the  other.  To  Was 
samo  there  appeared  to  be  two  persons  at  no  great 
distance. 


THE     FIRE-PLUME.  267 

"  Cousin,"  said  Wassamo,  "  some  person  is  near  us. 
I  hear  a  laugh;  awake  and  let  us  look  out  I" 
The  cousin  made  no  answer. 

Again  Wassamo  heard  the  laughter  in  mirthful 
repetition,  like  the  ripple  of  the  water-brook  upon  the 
shining  pebbles  of  the  stream.  Peering  out  as  far  as 
the  line  of  the  torchlight  pierced  into  the  darkness,  he 
beheld  two  beautiful  young  females  smiling  on  him. 
Their  countenances  appeared  to  be  perfectly  white, 
like  the  fresh  snow. 

He  crouched  down  and 'pushed  his  cousin,  saying, 
in  a  low  voice,  "Awake!  awake!  here  are  two  young 
women." 

But  he  received  no  answer.  His  cousin  seemed 
lost  to  all  earthly  sense  and  sound;  for  he  lay  un 
moved,  smiling,  in  the  calm  light  of  the  moon.  Was 
samo  started  up  alone,  and  glided  toward  the  strange 
females. 

As  he  approached  them  he  was  more  and  more  en 
raptured  with  their  beauty;  but  just  as  he  was  about 
to  speak  to  them,  he  suddenly  fell  to  the  earth,  and 
they  all  three  vanished  together.  The  moon  shone 
where  they  had  just  stood,  but  she  saw  them  not.  A 
gentle  sound  of  music  and  soft  voices  accompanied 
their  vanishing,  and  this  wakened  the  cousin. 

As  he  opened  his  eyes,  in  a  dreamy  way,  he  saw  the 
kettle  near  him.  Some  of  the  fish  he  obserfed  were 
in  the  bowl.  The  fire  flickered,  and  made  light  and 


268  THE    INDIAN    FAIRS'    BOOK. 

shadow;  but  nowhere  was  Wassamo  to  be  seen.  He 
waited,  and  waited  again,  in  the  expectation  that 
Wassamo  would  appear. 

"  Perhaps,"  thought  the  cousin,  "  he  is  gone  out 
again  to  visit  the  nets." 

He  looked  off  that  way,  but  the  canoe  still  lay- 
close  by  the  rock  at  the  shore.  He  searched  and 
found  his  footsteps  in  the  ashes,  and  out  upon  the 
green  ground  a  little  distance,  and  then  they  were 
utterly  lost. 

He  was  now  greatly  troubled  in  spirit,  and  he 
called  aloud,  "Netawis!  cousin!  cousin!"  but  there 
was  no  answer  to  his  call.  He  called  again  in  his 
sorrow,  louder  and  louder,  "  Netawis  !  Netawis  ! 
cousin!  cousin!  whither  are  you  gone?"  But  no  an 
swer  came  to  his  voice  of  wailing.  He  started  for  the 
edge  of  the  woods,  crying  as  he  ran,  "  My  cousin  !" 
and  "  Oh,  my  cousin  !" 

Hither  and  thither  through  the  forest  he  sped 
with  all  his  fleetness  of  foot  and  quickness  of  spirit; 
and  when  at  last  he  found  that  no  voice  would  an 
swer  him,  he  burst  into  tears,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

He  returned  to  the  fire,  and  sat  down.  He  mused 
upon  the  absence  of  Wassamo  with  a  sorely- 
troubled  heart.  "  He  may  have  been  playing  me  a 
•trick,"  he  thought;  but  it  was  full  time  that  the  trick 
should  be  at*  an  end,  and  Wassamo  returned  not. 
The  cousin  cherished  other  hopes,  but  they  all  died 


THE     FIRE-PLUME.  269 

away  in  the  morning  light,  when  he  found  himself 
alone  by  the  hunting-fire. 

"  How  shall  I  answer  to  his  friends  for  Wassamo?" 
thought  the  cousin.  "  Although/'  he  said  to  himself, 
"  his  parents  are  rny  kindred,  and  they  are  well  assured 
that  their  son  is  my  bosom-friend,  will  they  receive 
that  belief  in  the  place  of  him  who  is  lost.  No,  no; 
they  will  say  that' I  have  slain  him,  and  they  will  re 
quire  blood  for  blood.  Oh  !  my  cousin,  whither  aro 
you  gone?" 

He  would  have  rested  to  restore  his  mind  to  its 
peace,  but  he  could  not  sleep;  and,  without  further 
regard  to  net  or  canoe,  he  set  off  for  the  village,  run 
ning  all  the  way. 

As  they  saw  him  approaching  at  such  speed  and 
alone,  they  said,  "  Some  accident  has  happened." 

When  he  had  come  into  the  village,  he  told  them 
how  Wassamo  had  disappeared.  He  stated  all  the 
circumstances.  He  kept  nothing  to  himself.  He  de 
clared  all  that  he  knew. 

Some  said,  "He  has  killed  him  in  the  dark." 
Others  said,  "It  is  impossible;  they  were  like  broth 
ers;  they  would  have  fallen  for  ea*ch  other.  It  can 
not  be." 

At  the  cousin's  request,  many  of  the  men  visited 
the  fish-fire.  There  were  no  marks  of  blood.  No 
hasty  steps  were  there  to  show  that  any  conflict  or 
struggle  had*- occurred.  Every  ]eaf  on  every  tree  was 


270  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

in  its  place;  and  they  saw,  as  the  cousin  had  before, 
that  the  foot-prints  of  Wassamo  stopped  in  the 
wood,  as  if  he  had  gone  no  further  upon  the  earth, 
but  had  ascended  into  the  air. 

They  returned  to  the  village,  and  no  man  was  the 
wiser  as  to  the  strange  and  sudden  vanishing  of  Was 
samo.  None  ever  looked  to  see  him  more;  only  the 
parents,  who  still  hoped  and  awaited  his  return. 

The*  spring,  with  all  its  blossoms  and  its  delicate 
newness  of  life,  came  among  them;  the  Indians  as 
sembled  to  celebrate  their  vernal  feast  from  all  the 
country  round. 

Among  them  came  the  sad  cousin  of  Wassamo. 
He  was  pale  and  thin  as  the  shadow  of  the  shaft  that 
flies.  The  pain  of  his  mind  had  changed  his  fea 
tures,  and  wherever  he  turned  his  eyes,  they  were 
dazzled  with  the  sight  of  the  red  blood  of  his 
friend. 

The  parents  of  Wassamo,  far  gone  in  despair,  and 
weary  with  watching  for  his  return,  now  demanded 
the  life  of  Netawis.  The  village  was  stirred  to  its 
very  heart  by  their  loud  lamentings  ;  and,  after  a 
struggle  of  pityf  they  decided  to  give  the  young 
man's  life  to  the  parents.  They  said  that  they  had 
waited  long  enough.  A  day  was  appointed  on  which 
the  cousin  was  to  yield  his  life  for  his  friend's. 

He  was  a  brave  youth,  and  they  bound  him  only 
by  his  word  to  be  ready  at  the  appointed  hoar.  He 


THE     FIKE-PLUME.  271 

said  that  he  was  not  afraid  to  die;  for  he  was  inno 
cent  of  the  great  wrong  they  laid  to  his  charge. 

A  day  or  two  before  the  time  set  to  take  his  life, 
he  wandered  sadly  along  the  shore  of  the  lake.  He 
looked  at  the  glassy  water,  and  more  than  once  the 
thought  to  end  his  griefs  by  casting  himself  in  its 
depths,  came  upon  him  with  such  sudden  force  that  it 
was  only  by  severe  self-control  that  he  was  able  to 
turn  his  steps  in  another  direction.  He  reflected — 
"  They  will  say  that  I  was  guilty  if  I  take  my  own 
"!ife.  No.  I  will  give  them  my  blood  for  that  of  my 
cousin." 

He  walked  on,  with  slow  steps,  but  he  found  no 
comfort,  turn  where  he  would ;  the  sweet  songs  of  the 
grove  jarred  upon  his  ear;  the  beauty  of  the  blue  sky 
pained  his  sight;  and  the  soft  green  earth,  as  he 
trode  upon  it,  seemed  harsh  to  his  foot,  and  sent  a 
pang  through  every  nerve.  "  Oh,  where  is  my  cous 
in  ?"  he  kept  saying  to  himself. 

Meanwhile,  when  Wassamo  fell  senseless  before 
the  two  young  women  in  the  wood,  he  lost  all  knowl 
edge  of  himself  until  he  wakened  in  a  distant  scene. 
He  heard  persons  conversing.  One  spoke  in  a  tone  of 
command,  saying,  "  You  foolish  girls,  is  this  the  way 
that  you  rove  about  at  nights  without  our  knowledge? 
Put  that  person  you  have  brought  on  that  couch  of 
yours,  and  do  not  let  him  lie  upon  the  ground." 

Wassamo  felt  himself  moved,  he  knew  not  how. 


272  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

and  placed  upon  a  couch.  Some  time  after,  the  spell 
seemed  to  be  a  little  lightened,  and  on  opening  his 
eyes,  he  was  surprised  to  find  that  he  was  lying  in  a 
spacious  and  shining  lodge,  extending  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach. 

One  spoke  to  him  and  said  :  "  Stranger,  awake, 
and  take  something  wherewith  to  refresh  yourself.1  * 

He  obeyed  the  command  and  sat  up.  On  either 
side  of  the  lodge  he  beheld  rows  of  people  seated  in 
orderly  array.  At  a  distance  he  could  see  two  stately 
persons,  who  looked  rather  more  in  years  than  the 
others,  and  who  appeared  to  exact  obedience  from  all 
around  them.  One  of  them,  whom  he  heard  ad 
dressed  as  the  Old  Spirit-man,  spoke  to  Wassamo. 
"  My  son,"  said  he,  "  know  it  was  those  foolish  girls 
who  brought  you  hither.  They  saw  you  at  the  fish 
ing-ground.  When  you  attempted  to  approach  them 
you  fell  senseless,  and  at  the  same  moment  they 
transported  you  to  this  place.  We  are  under  the 
earth.  But  be  at  ease.  We  will  make  your  stay 
with  us  pleasant.  I  am  the  guardian  Spirit  of  the 
Sand  Mountains.  They  are  my  charge.  I  pile  them 
up,  and  blow  them  about,  and  do  whatever  I  will 
with  them.  It  keeps  me  very  busy,  but  I  am  hale 
foi  my  age,  and  I  love  to  be  employed.  I  have  often 
wished  to  get  one  of  your  race  to  marry  among  us.  If 
you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  remain,  I  will  give 
you  one  of  my  daughters — the  one  who  smiled  on  you 


THE     FIRE-PLUME.  273 

first,  the  night  you  were  brought  away  from  your 
parents  and  friends." 

Wassamo  dropped  his  head  and  made  no  answer. 
The  thought  that  he  should  behold  his  kindred  no 
more,  made  him  sad. 

He  was  silent,  and  the  Old  Spirit  continued : 
c  c  Your  wants  will  all  be  supplied ;  but  you  must  be 
careful  not  to  stray  far  from  the  lodge.  I  am  afraid 
of  that  Spirit  who  rules  all  islands  lying  in  the  lakes. 
He  is  my  bitter  enemy,  for  I  have  refused  him  my 
daughter  in  marriage;  and  when  he  learns  that  you 
are  a  member  of  my  family,  he  will  seek  to  harm 
you.  There  is  my  daughter,"  added  the  Old  Spirit, 
pointing  toward  her.  "  Take  her.  She  shall  be  your 
wife/' 

Forthwith  Wassamo  and  the  Old  Spirit's  daughter 
sat  near  each  other  in  the  lodge,  and  they  were  man 
and  wife. 

One  evening  the  Old  Spirit  came  in  after  a  busy 
day's  work  out  among  the  sand-hills,  in  the  course  of 
which  he  had  blown  them  all  out  of  shape  with  great 
gusts  of  wind,  and  strewn  them  about  in  a  thousand 
directions,  and  brought  them  back  and  piled  them  up 
in  all  sorts  of  misshapen  heaps. 

At  the  close  of  this  busy  day,  when  the  Old  Spirit 
came  in  very  much  out  of  breath,  he  said  to  Was 
samo,  "  Son-in-law,  I  am  in  want  of  tobacco.  None 
grows  about  this  dry  place  of  mine.  You  shall  re- 


274  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

turn  to  your  people  and  procure  me  a  supply.  It  is 
seldom  that  the  few  who  pass  these  sand-hills  offer 
me  a  piece  of  tobacco, -it  is  a  rare  plant  in  these 
parts,-but  when  they  do,  it  immediately  comes  to 
me  Just  so/'  he  added,  putting  his  hand  out  of  the 
side  of  the  lodge  and  drawing  in  several  pieces  of 
tobacco  which  some  one  passing  at  that  moment 
offered  as  a  fee  to  the  Old  Spirit,  to  keep  the  sand 
hills  from  blowing  about  till  they  had  got  by. 

Other  gifts  beside  tobacco  came  in  the  same  way  to 
the  side  of  the  lodge — sometimes  a  whole  bear,  then  a 
wampum-robe,  then  a  string  of  birds — and  the  Sand- 
Spirits  alogether  led  an  easy  life;  for  they  were  not  at 
the  trouble  to  hunt  or  clothe  themselves;  and  when 
ever  the  housekeeping  began  to  fall  short,  nothing 
would  happen  but  a  wonderful  storm  of  dust,  all  the 
sand-hills  being  straightway  put  in  an  uproar,  and  the 
contributions  would  at  once  begin  to  pour  in  at  the 
side  windows  of  the  lodge,  till  all  •  their  wants  were 
supplied. 

After  Wassamo  had  been  among  these  curious  peo 
ple  several  months,  the  old  Sand-Spirit  said  to  him, 
"  Son-in-law,  you  must  not  be  surprised  at  what  you 
will  see  next;  for  since  you  have  been  with  us  you 
have  never  known  us  to  go  to  sleep.  It  has  been  sum 
mer  when  the  sun  never  sets  here  where  we  live.  But 
now,  what  you  call  winter,  is  coming  on.  You  will 
soon  see  us  lie  down,  and  we  shall  not  rise  again  til] 


THE    FIRE -PLUME.  275 

the  spring.  Take  my  advice.  Do  not  leave  the 
lodge.  I  have  sure  knowledge  that  that  knavish 
Island  Spirit  is  on  the  prowl,  and  as  he  has  command 
of  a  particular  kind  of  storm,  which  comes  from  the 
south-west,  he  only  waits  his  opportunity  to  catch 
you  'ahroad  and  do  you  a  mischief.  Try  and  amuse 
yourself.  VThat  cupboard,"  pointing-  to  a  corner  of 
the  lodge,  "is  never  empty;  for  it  is  there  that  all 
the  offerings  are  handed  in  while  we  are  asleep.  It  is 
never  empty,  and — "  But  ere  the  old  Sand-Spirit 
could  utter  another  word,  a  loud  rattling  of  thundei 
•^as  heard,  and  instantly,  not  only  the  Old  Spirit  hut 
every  one  of  his  family,  vanished  out  of  sight. 

When  the  storm  had  passed  by,  they  all  reappeared 
in  the  lodge.  This  sudden  vanishing  and  reappear 
ance  occurred  at  every  tempest. 

"  You  are  surprised,"  said  the  Old  Spirit,  "  to  see 
as  disappear  when  it  thunders.  The  reason  is  this  : 
that  noise  which  you  fancy  is  thunder,  is  our  enemy 
the  Island  Spirit  hallooing  on  his  way  home  from  the 
hunt.  -  We  get  out  of  sight  that  we  may  escape  the 
necessity  of  asking  him  to  come  in  and  share  our  even 
ing  meal.  We  are  not  afraid  of  him,  not  in  the  least." 

Just  then  it  chanced  to  thunder  again,  and  Was- 
samo  observed  that  his  father-in-law  made  extraor 
dinary  dispatch  to  conceal  himself,  although  no 
stranger,  at  all  resembling  in  any  way  the  Island 
Spirit,  was  in  view. 


276  THE     INDIAN      FAIRY     BOOK. 

Shortly  after  this  the  season  of  sleep  began,  and 
one  by  one  they  laid  themselves  down  to  the  long 
slumber. 

The  Old  Spirit  was  the  last  to  drop  away;  and, 
before  he  yielded,  he  went  forth  and  had  his  last 
sport  with  the  sand-hills,  and  he  so  tossed  and  vexed 
the  poor  hills,  and  scattered  them  to  and  fro,  and 
whirled  them  up  in  the  air,  and  far  over  the  land, 
that  it  was  days  and  days  before  they  got  back  to 
any  thing  like  their  natural  shape. 

While  his  relations  were  enjoying  this  long  sleep, 
•Wassamo  amused  himself  as  best  he  could.  The 
cupboard  never  failed  him  once;  for  visit  it  when  he 
would,  he  always  found  a  fresh  supply  of  game,  and 
every  other  dainty  which  his  heart  desired. 

But  his  chief  pastime  was  to  listen  to  the  voices 
of 'tlie  travelers  who  passed  by  the  window  at  the  side 
of  the  lodge  where  they  made  their  requests  for  com 
fortable  weather  and  an  easy  journey. 

These  were  often  mingled  with  loud  complainings, 
such  as  "Ho!  how  the  sand  jumps  about!"  "  Take 
away  that  hill  1"  "  I  am  lost!"  "  Old  Sand-Spirit, 
where  are  you?  help  this  way!"  and  the  like,  which 
indicated  that  such  as  were  journeying  through  the 
hills  had  their  own  troubles  to  encounter. 

As  the  spring-light  of  the  firsfc  day  of  spring  shone 
into  the  lodge,  the  whole  family  arose  and  went  about 
the  affairs  of  the  day  as  though  they  had  been  slum- 


THE    FIRE-PLUME.  277 

bering  only  for  a  single  night.  The  rest  of  the  Old 
Spirit  seemed  to  have  done  him  much  good,  for  he 
was  very  cheerful;  and,  first  putting  his  head  forth 
from  the  window  for  a  puff  at  a  sand-hill,  which  was 
his  prime  luxury  in  a  morning,  he  said  to  Wassamo, 
"  Son-in-law,  you  have  been  very  patient  with  our 
long  absence  from  your  company,  and  you  shall  be  re 
warded.  In  a  few  days  you  may  start  with  your  wife 
to  visit  your  relations.  You  can  be  absent  one  year, 
but  at  the  end  of  that  time  you 'must  return.  When 
you  get  to  your  home-village,  you  must  first  go  in 
alone.  Leave  your  wife  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
lodge,  and  when  you  are  welcome,  then  send  for  her. 
When  there,  do  not  be  surprised  that  she  disap 
pears  whenever  you  hear  it  thunder."  He  added,  with 
a  sly  look,  "That  old  Island  Spirit  has  a  brother 
down  in  that  part  of  the  country.  You  will  prosper 
in  "all  things,  for  niy  daughter  is  very  diligent.  All 
the  time  that  you  pass  in  sleep,  she  will  be  at  work. 
The  distance  is  short  to  your  village.  A  path  leads 
directly  to  it,  and  when  you  get  there,  do  not  forget 
my  wants  as  I  stated  to  you  before/7 

Wassamo  promised  obedience  to  these  directions, 
and,  at  the  appointed  time,  set  out  in  company  with 
his  wife.     They  traveled  on  a  pleasant  course,  his  wife  " 
leading  the  way,  until  they  reached  a,  rising  ground. 

At  the  highest  point  of  this  ground,  she  said,  "  We 
will  soon  get  to  your  country." 


278  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

It  suddenly  became  broad  day,  as  they  came  upon 
a  high  bank;  they  passed,  unwet,  for  a  short  distance 
under  the  lake,  and  presently  emerged  from  the  water 
at  the  sand-banks,  just  off  the  shore  where  Wassamo 
had  set  his  nets  on  the  night  when  he  had  been  borne 
away  by  the  two  strange  females. 

He  now  left  his  wife  sheltered  in  a  neighboring 
wood,  while  he  advanced  toward  the  village  alone. 

Musing  sadly,  and  from  time  to  time  breaking 
forih  in  mournful  %cries,  as  he  walked  the  shore,  it 
was  his  cousin  that  Wassamo  beheld  as  he  turned 
the  first  point  of  land  by  the  lake. 

With  the  speed  of  lightning  the  cousin  rushed 
forward.  "Netawis!  Netawis!"  he  cried,  "is  it 
indeed  you  ?  Whence  have  you  come,  oh,  my 
cousin  ?" 

They  fell  upon  each  other's  necks,  and  wept  aloud. 
And  then,  without  further  delay  or  question,  the 
cousin  ran  off  with  breathless  dispatch  to  the  vil 
lage.  He  seemed  like  a  shadow  upon  the  open 
ground,  he  sped  so  fast. 

He  entered  the  lodge  where  sat  the  mother  of 
Wassamo  in  mourning  for  her  son.  "  Hear  me." 
said  the  cousin.  "I  have  seen  him  whom  you  accuse 
me  of  having  killed.  He  will  be  here  even  while  we 
speak." 

He  had  scarcely  uttered  these  words  when  the 
whole  village  was  astir  in  an  instant.  All  ran  out 


THE     FIRE-PLUME.  279 

and  strained  their  eyes  to  catch  the  first  view  of  him 
whom  they  had  thought  dead.  And  when  Wassamo 
came  forward,  they  at  first  fell  from  him  as  though 
h*e  had  been  in  truth  one  returned  from  the  Spirit- 
land.  He  entered  the  lodge  of  his  parents.  They 
saw  that  it  was  Wassamo,  living,  breathing  and  as 
they  had  ever  known  him.  And  joy  lit  up  the  lodge- 
circle  as  though  a  new  fire  had  been  kindled  in  the 
eyes  of  his  friends  and  kinsfolk. 

He  related  all  that  had  happened  to  him  from  the 
moment  of  his  leaving  the  temporary  night-lodge 
with  the  flame  on  his  head.  He  told  them  of  the 
strange  land  in  which  he  had  sojourned  during  his 
absence.  He  added  to  his  mother,  apart  from  the 
company,  that  he  was  married,  and  t]ftat  he  had  left 
his  wife  at  a  short  distance  from  the  village. 

She  went  out  immediately  in  search  of  her;  they 
soon  found  her  in  the  wood,  and  all  the  women  in  the 
village  conducted  her  in  honor  to  the  lodge  of  her 
new  relations.  The  Indian  people  were  astonished 
at  her  beauty,  at  the  whiteness  of  her  skin,  and  still 
more,  that  she  was  able  to  talk  with  them  in  their 
own  language. 

The  village  was  happy,  and  the  feast  went  on  as 
long  as  the  supply  held  out.  All  were  delighted  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  the  old  Sand-Spirit's 
daughter;  and  as  they  had  heard  that  he  was  a 
magician  and  guardian  of  great  power,  the  tobacco 


280  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

which  he  had  sent  for  by  his  son-in-law,  came  in,  in 
great  abundance,  with  every  visitor. 

The  summer  and  fall  which  Wassamo  thus  passed 
with  his  parents  and  the  people  of  his  tribe  were  pros- 
perous  with  all  the  country. 

The  cousin  of  Wassamo  recovered  heart,  and  sang 
once  more  his  sad  or  mirthful  chants,  just  as  the  hu 
mor  was  upon  him;  but  he  kept  close  by  Wassamo, 
and  watched  him  in  all  his  movements.  He  made  it 
a  point  to  ask  many  questions  of  the  country  he 
came  from;  some  of  which  his  cousin  replied  to,  but 
others  were  left  entirely  in  the  dark. 

At  every  thunder-storm,  as  the  old  Sand-Spirit 
had  foreboded,  the  wife  of  Wassamo  disappeared, 
much  to  the  ««istonishment  of  her  Indian  company, 
and,  to  their  greater  wonder,  she  was  never  idle,  night 
nor  day. 

When  the  winter  came  on,  Wassamo  prepared 
for  her  a  comfortable  lodge,  to  which  she  withdrew 
for  her  long  sleep;  and  he  gave  notice  to  his  friends 
that  they  must  not  disturb  her,  as  she  would  not  be 
with  them  again  until  the  spring  returned. 

Before  lying  down,  she  said  to  her  husband,  "  No 
one  but  yourself  must  pass  on  this  side  of  the  lodge." 

The  winter  passed  away  with  snows,  and  sports  and 
stories  in  the  lodge;  and  when  the  sap  of  the  maple 
began  to  flow,  the  wife  of  Wassamo  wakened,  and 
she  immediately  set  about  work  as  before.  She 


THE    FIRE-PLUME.  281 

helped  at  the  maple-trees  with  the  others;  and,  as  if 
luck  were  in  her  presence,  the  sugar-harvest  was 
greater  than  had  been  ever  known  in  all  that  region. 

The  gifts  of  tobacco,  after  this,  came  in  even  more 
freely  than  they  had  at  first;  and  as  each  brought  his 
bundle  to  the  lodge  of  Wassamo,  he  asked  for  the  usual 
length  of  life,  for  success  as  a  hunter,  and  for  a  plen 
tiful  supply  of  food.  They  particularly  desired  that 
the  sand-hills  might  be  kept  quiet,  so  that  their  lands 
might  be  moist,  and  their  eyes  clear  of  dust  to  sight 
the  game. 

Wassamo  replied  that  he  would  mention  each  of 
their  requests  to  his  father-in-law. 

The  tobacco  was  stored  in  sacks,  and  on  the  out 
side  of  the  skins,  that  there  might  be  no  mistake  as 
to  their  wants,  each  one  who  had  given  tobacco  had 
painted  and  marked  in  distinct  characters  the  totem 
or  family  emblem  of  his  family  and  tribe.'  These  the 
old  Sand-Spirit  could  read  at  his  leisure,  and  do  what 
he  thought  best  for  each  of  his  various  petitioners. 

When  the  time  for  his  return  arrived,  Wassamo 
warned  his  people  that  they  should  not  follow  him 
nor  attempt  to  take  note  how  he  disappeared.  He 
then  took  the  moose-skin  sacks  filled  with  tobacco,  and 
bade  farewell  to  all  but  Netawis.  He  insisted  on  the 
privilege  of  attending  Wassamo  and  his  wife  for  a 
distance,  and  when  they  reached  the  sand-banks  he 
expressed  the  strongest  wish  to  proceed  with  them  on 


282  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

their  journey.  Wassamo  told  him  that  it  could  not 
be;  that  only  spirits  could  exertrthe  necessary  power, 
and  that  there  were  no  such  spirits  at  hand. 

They  then  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  each  other, 
Wassamo  enjoining  it  upon  his  cousin,  at  risk  of  his 
life,  to  not  look  back  when  he  had  once  started  to  re 
turn. 

The  cousin,  sore  at  heart,  but  constrained  to  obey, 
parted  from  them,  and  as  he  walked  sadly  away,  he 
heard  a  gliding  noise  as  of  the  sound  of  waters  that 
were  cleaved. 

He  returned  home,  and  told  his  friends  that  Was 
samo  and  his  wife  had  disappeard,  but  that  he  knew 
not  how.  No  one  doubted  his  word  in  any  thing  now. 

Wassamo  with  his  wife  soon  reached  their  home  at 
the  hills.  The  old  Sand-Spirit  was  in  excellent 
health,  and  delighted  to  see  them.  He  hailed  their 
return  with  open  "arms;  and  he  opened  his  arms  so 
very  wide,  that  when  he  closed  them  he  not  only 
embraced  Wassamo  and  his  wife,  but  all  of  the  to 
bacco-sacks  which  they  had  brought  with  them. 

The  requests  of  the  Indian  people  were  made 
known  to  him;  he  replied  'that  *he  would  attend  to 
all,  but  that  he  must  first  invite  his  friends  to  smoke 
with  him.  Accordingly  he  at  once  dispatched  his 
pipe-bearer  and  confidential  aid  to  summon  various 
Spirits  of  his  acquaintance,  and  set  the  time  for  them 
to  come. 


THE    FIRE-PLUME.  283 

Meanwhile  he  had  a  word  of  advice  for  his  son-in- 
law  Wassamo.  "  My  son/'  said  he;  "  some  of  these 
Manitos  that  I  have  asked  to  come  here  are  of  a 
very  wicked  temper,  and  I  warn  you  especially  of 
that  Island  Spirit  who  wished  to  marry  my  daughter. 
He  is  a  very  bad-hearted  Monedo,  and  would  like  to 
do  you  harm.  Some  of  the  company  you  will,  how 
ever,  find  to  be  very  friendly.  A  caution  for  you. 
When  they  come  in,  do  you  sit  close  by  your  wife;  if 
you  do  not,  you  will  be  lost.  She  only  can  save  you; 
for  those  who  arc  expected  to  come  are  so  powerful 
that  tltey  will  otherwise  draw  you  from  your  seat,  and 
toss  you  out  of  the  lodge  as  though  you  were  a 
feather.  You  have  only  to  observe  my  words  and  all 
will  be  well." 

Wassamo  took  heed  to  what  the  Old  Spirit  said, 
and  answerecl  that  he  would  obey. 

About  mid-day  the  company  began  to  assemble; 
and  such  a  company  Wassamo  had  never  looked  on 
before.  There  were  Spirits  from  all  parts  of  the 
country;  such  strange-looking  persons,  and  in  dresses 
so  wild  and  outlandish  !  One  entered  who  smiled  on 
him  This,  Wassamo  was  informed,  was  a  Spirit  who 
had  charge  of  the  affairs  of  a  tribe  in  the  North,  and 
he  was  as  pleasant  and  cheery  a  Spirit  as  one  would 
wish  to  see.  Soon  after,  Wassamo  heard  a  great 
rumbling  and  roaring,  as  of  waters  tumbling  over 
rocks;  and  presently,  with  a  vast  bluster,  and  fairly 


284  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

shaking  the  lodge  with  his  deep-throated  hail  of  wel 
come  to  the  old  Sand- Spirit,  in  rolled  another,  who 
was  the  Guardian  Spirit  and  special  director  of  a 
great  cataract  or  water-fall  not  far  off. 

Then  came  with  crashing  ^  steps  the  owner  of  sev 
eral  whirlwinds,  which  were  in  the  hahit  of  raging 
about  in  the  neighboring  country.  And  following 
this  one,  glided  in  a  sweet-spoken,  gentle-faced  little 
Spirit,  who  was  understood  to  represents  summer-gale 
that  was  accustomed  to  blow,  toward  evening,  in  at 
the  lodge-doors,  and  to  be  particularly  well  disposed 
toward  young  lovers. 

The  last  to  appear  was  a  great  rocky-headed  fel 
low;  and  he  was  twice  as  stony  in  his  manners;  and 
swaggered  and  strided  in,  and  raised  such  a  commotion 
with  his  great  green  blanket  when  he  shook  it,  that 

Wassamo  was  nearly  taken  off  his  feet;  and  it  was 

• 

only  by  main  force  that  he  was  able  to  cling  by  his 
wife.  This,  which  was  the  last  to  enter,  was  that 
wicked  Island  Spirit,  who  looked  grim  enough  at 
Wassamo's  wife,  who  had  rejected  him,  as  he  passed 
in. 

Soon  after,  the  old  Sand-Spirit,  who  was  a  great 
speech-maker,  arose  and  addressed  the  assembly. 

"  Brothers,"  he  said,  "  1  have  invited  you  to  par 
take  with  me  of  the  offerings  made  by  the  mortals 
on  earth,  which  have  been  brought  by  our  relation/' 
pointing  to  Wassamo.  "  Brothers,  you  see  their 


THE      FIRE-PLUME.  285 

wishes  and  desires  plainly  set  forth  here/'  laying  his 
hand  upon  the  figured  moose-skins.  "  The  offering 
is  worthy  of  our  consideration.  Brothers,  I  see  noth 
ing  on  my  part  to  hinder  our  granting  their  requests; 
they  do  not  appear  to  be  unreasonable.  Brothers, 
the  offer  is  gratifying.  It  is  tobacco — an  article 
which  we  have  lacked  until  we  scarcely  knew  how  to 
use  our  pipes.  Shall  we  grant  their  requests  ?  One 
thing  more  I  would  say.  Brothers,  it  is  this  :  There 
is  my  son-in  law;  he  is  mortal.  I  wish  to  detain  him 
with  me,  and  it  is  with  us  jointly  to  make  him  one 
of  us." 

"Hoke!  hoke!"  ran  through  the  whole  company  of 
Spirits,  and  "Hoke!  hoke!"  they  cried  again.  And 
it  was  understood  that  the  petitioners  were  to  have 
all  they  asked,  and  that  Wassamo  was  thenceforward 
fairly  accepted  as  a  member  of  the  great  family  of 
Spirits. 

As  a  wedding-gift,  the  Old  Spirit  asked  his  son-in- 
law  to  make  one  request,  which  should  be  promptly 
granted. 

"  Let  there  be  no  sand-squalls  among  my  father's 
people  for  three  months  to  come/'  said  Wassamo. 

"  So  shall  it  be,"  answered  the  old  Sand-Spirit. 

The  tobacco  was  now  divided  in  equal  shares 
among  the  company.  They  filled  their  pipes — and 
huge  pipes  they  were — and  such  clouds  they  blew, 
that  they  rushed  forth  out  of  the  lodge  and  brought 


286  THE    INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

on  night,  in  all  the  country  round  about,  several 
hours  before  its  time. 

After  a  while  passed  in  silence,  the  Spirits  rose  up, 
and  bearing  off  their  tobacco-sacks,  they  went  smok 
ing  through  the  country,  and  losing  themselves  in 
their  own  fog,  till  a  late  hour  in  the  morning,  when 
all  of  their  pipes  being  burned  out,  each  departed  on 
his  own  business. 

The  very  next  day  the  old  Sand-Spirit,  who  was 
very  much  pleased  with  the  turn  affairs  had  taken 
at  his  entertainment,  addressed  Wassamo  :.  "  Son-in- 
law,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  allow  you  another 
holiday  as  an  acknowledgment  of  the  handsome  man 
ner  in  which  you  acquitted  yourself  of  your  embassy. 
You  may  visit  your  parents  and  relatives  once  more, 
to  tell  them  that  their  wishes  are  granted,  and  to 
take  your  leave  of  them  forever.  You  can  never, 
after,  visit  them  again." 

Wassamo  at  once  set  out,  reached  his  people,  and 
was  heartily  welcomed. 

They  asked  for  his  wife,  and  Wassamo  informed 
them  that  she  had  tarried  at  home  to  look  after  a 
son,  a  fine  little  Sand-Spirit,  who  had  been  born  to 
them  since  his  return. 

Having  delivered  all  of  his  messages  and  passed  a 
happy  time,  Wassamo  said,  "  I  must  now  bid  you  all 
farewell  forever." 

His  parents  and  friends  raised  their  voices  in  loud 


THE     FIRE-PLUME.  287 

lamentation;  they  clung  to  him,  and  as  a  special 
favor,  which  he  could  now  grant,  being  himself  a 
spirit,  he  allowed  them  to  accompany  him  to  the 
sand-hanks. 

They  all  seated  themselves  to  watch  his  last  fare 
well.  The  day  was  mild ;  the  sky  clear,  not  a  cloud 
appearing  to  dim  the  heavens,  nor  a  breath  of  wind 
to  ruffle  the  tranquil  waters.  A  perfect  silence  fell 
upon  the  company.  They  gazed  with  eager  eyes 
fastened  on  Wassamo,  as  he  waded  out  into  the 
water,  waving  his  hands.  They  saw  him  descend, 
more  and  more,  into  the  depths.  They  beheld  the 
waves  close  over  his  head,  and  a  loud  and  piercing 
wail  went  up  which  rent  the  sky. 

They  looked  again;  a  red  name,  as  if  the  sun  had 
glanced  on  a  billow,  lighted  the  spot  for  an  instant; 
but  the  Feather  of  Flames,  Wassamo  of  the  Fire- 
Plume,  had  disappeared  from  home  and  kindred,  and 
the  familiar  paths  of  his  youth,  forever. 


XXII. 

WEEOIGOES  AND  THE  BONE-DWARF. 

IN  a  lonely  forest,  there  once  lived  a  man  and  his 
wife,  who  had  a  son.  The  father  went  forth  every 
day,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Indians,  to  hunt 
for  food  to  supply  his  family. 

One  day,  while  he  was  absent,  his  wife,  on  gokig  out 
of  the  lodge,  looked  toward  the  lake  that  was  near, 
and  she  saw  a  very  large  man  walking  on  the  water, 
and  coming  fast  toward  the  lodge.  He  was  already 
so  near  that  she  could  not,  if  she  had  wished  to, 
escape  by  flight.  She  thought  to  herself,  "  What 
shall  I  say  to  the  monster  ?" 

As  he  advanced  rapidly,  she  ran  in,  and  taking  the 
hand  of  her  son,  a  boy  of  three  or  four  years  old,  she 
led  him  out.  Speaking  very  loud,  "  See,  my  son," 
she  said,  "  your  grandfather;"  and  then  added,  in  a 
tone  of  appeal  and  supplication,  "  he  will  have  pity 
on  us." 

The  giant  approached  and  said,  with  a  loud  ha!  ha! 
"Yes,  my  son;"  and  added,  addressing  the  woman, 
"  Have  you  any  thing  to  eat  ?" 


WEENDIGOES    AND    THE    BONE-DWARF.      289 

By  good  luck  the  lodge  was  well  supplied  with 
meats  of  various  kinds;  the  woman  thought  to  please 
him  by  handing  him  these,  which  were  savory  and 
carefully  prepared.  But  i^e  pushed  them  away  in 
disgust,  saying,  "I  smell  nre;"  and,  not  waiting  to 
be  invited,  he  seized  upon  the  carcass  of  a  deer 
which  lay  by  the  door,  and  dispatched  it  almost  with 
out  stopping  to  take  breath. 

When  the  hunter  came  home  he  was  surprised  to 
see  the  monster,  he  was  so  very  frightful.  He  had 
again  brought  a  deer,  which  he  had  no  sooner  put 
down  than  the  cannibal  seized  it,  tore  it  in  pieces, 
and.  devoured  it  as  though  he  had  been  fasting  for  M 
week.  The  hunter  looked  on  in  fear  and  astonish 
ment,  and  in  a  whisper  he  told  his  wife  that  he  was 
afraid  for  their  lives,  as  this  monster  was  one  whom 
Indians  call  Weeridigoes.  He  did  not  even  dare  to 
speak  to  him,  nor  did  the  cannibal  say  a  word,  but  as 
soon  as  he  had  finished  his  meal,  he  stretched  himself 
down  and  fell  asleep. 

In  the  evening  the  Weendigo  told  the  people  that 
he  should  go  out  a  hunting;  and  he  strided  away  to 
ward  the  North.  Toward  morning  he  returned,  all 
besmeared  with  blood,  but  he  did  not  make  known 
where  he  had  been  nor  of  what  kind  of  game  he  had 
been  in  quest;  although  the  hunter  and  his  wife  had 
dreadful  suspicions  of  the  sport  in  which  he  had  been 
engaged.  Withal  his  hunger  did  not  seem  to  be 

13 


290  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

staid,  for  he  took  up  the  deer  which  the  hunter  had 
brought  in,  and  devoured  it  eagerly,  leaving  the  fam 
ily  to  make  their  meal  of  the  dried  meats  which  had 
been  reserved  in  the  lodge, 

In  this  manner  the  Weendigo  and  the  hunters 
family  lived  for  some  time,  and  it  surprised  them  that 
the  monster  never  attempted  their  lives;  although  he 
never  slept  at  night,  but  always  went  out  and  re 
turned,  by  the  break  of  day,  stained  with  blood,  and 
looking  very  wild  and  famished.  When  there  was  no 
deer  to  be  had  wherewith  to  finish  his  repast,  he  said 
nothing.  In  truth  he  was  always  still  and  gloomy, 
and  he  seldom  spoke  to  any  of  them;  when  he  did, 
his  discourse  was  chiefly  addressed  to  the  boy. 

One  evening,  after  he  had  thus  sojourned  with 
them  for  many  weeks,  he  informed  the  hunter  that 
the  time  had  now  arrived  for  him  to  take  his  leave, 
but  that  before  doing  so,  he  would  give  him  a  charm 
that  would  bring  good  luck  to  his  lodge.  He  pre 
sented  to  him  two  arrows,  and  thanking  the  hunter 
and  his  wife  for  their  kindness,  the  Weendigo  de 
parted,  saying,  as  he  left  them,  that  he  had  all  the 
world  to  travel  over. 

The  hunter  and  his  wife  werfc  happy  when  he  was 
gone,  for  they  had  looked  every  moment  to  have  been 
devoured  by  him.  He  tried  the  arrows,  and  they 
never  failed  1  o  bring  down  whatever  they  were  aimed 
at. 


WEENDIGOES    AND    THE    BONE-DWARF.      291 

They  had  lived  on,  prosperous  and  contented,  for  a 
year,  when,  one  day,  the  hunter  being  absent,  his 
wife  on  going  out  of  the  lodge,  saw  something  like  a 
black  cloud  approaching.  • 

She  looked  until  it  came  near,  when  she  perceived 
that  it  was  another  Weendigo  or  Giant  Cannibal. 
Kemembering  the  good  conduct  of  the  other,  she  had 
no  fear  of  this  one,  and  asked  him  to  look  into  the 
lodge. 

He  did  so  ;  and  finding  after  he  had  glared 
around,  that  there  was  no  food  at  hand,  he  grew  very 
wroth,  and,  being  sorely  disappointed,  he  took  the 
lodge  and  threw  it  to  the  winds.  He  seemed  hardly 
at  first  to  notice  the  woman  in  his  anger;  but  pres 
ently  he  cast  a  fierce  glance  upon  her,  and  seizing  her 
by  the  waist,  in  spite  of  her  cries  and  entreaties,  he 
bore  her  off.  To  the  little  son,  who  ran  to  and  fro 
lamenting,  he  paid  no  heed. 

At  night-fall,  when  the  hunter  returned  from  the 
forest,  he  was  amazed.  His  lodge  was  gone,  and  he 
saw  his  son  sitting  near  the  spot  where  it  had  stood, 
shedding  tears.  The  son  pointed  in  the  direction  the 
Weendigo  had  taken,  and  as  the  father  hurried  along 
he  found  the  remains  of  his  wife  strewn  upon  the 
ground. 

The  hunter  blackened  his  face,  and  vowed  in  his 
heart  that  he  wofcld  have  revenge.  He  built  another 
lodge,  and  gathering  together  the  bones  of  his 


292  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

wife,  he  placed  them  in  the  hollow  pa/t  of   a  dry 
tree. 

He  left  his  boy  to  take  care  of  the  lodge  while  he 
was  absent,  hunting  and  roaming  about  from*place  to 
place,  striving  to  forget  his  misfortune,  and  searching 
for  the  wicked  Weendigo. 

He  had  been  gone  but  a  little  while  one  morning, 
when  his  son  shot  his  arrows  out  through  the  top  of 
the  lodge,  and  running  out  to  look  for  them,  he  could 
find  them  nowhere.  The  boy  had  been  trying  his 
luck,  and  he  was  puzzled  that  he  had  shot  his  shafts 
entirely  out  of  sight. 

His  father  made  h;m  more  arrows,  and  when  he 
was  again  left  alone,  he  shot  one  of  them  out;  but 
although  he  looked  as  sharply  as  he  could  toward  the 
spot  where  it  fell,  and  ran  thither  at  once,  he  could 
not  find  it. 

He  shot  another,  which  was  lost  in  the  same  way; 
and  returning  to  the  lodge  to  replenish  his  quiver,  he 
happened  to  espy  one  of  the  lucky  arrows,  which  the 
first  Weendigo  had  given  to  his  father,  hanging  upon 
the  side  of  the  lodge.  He  reached  up,  and  having 
secured  it,  he  shot  it  out  at  the  opening,  and  imme 
diately  running  out  to  find  where  it  fell,  he  was  sur 
prised  to  see  a  beautiful  boy  just  in  the  act  of  taking 
it  up,  and  hurrying  away  with  it  to  a  large  tree, 
where  he  disappeared. 

The  hun^r's  son  followed,  and   having   come  to 


WEENDIGOES    AND    THE    BONE-DWARF?      293 

the  tree,  he  beheld  the  face  of  the  boy  looking  out 
through  an  opening  in  the  hollow  part. 

"Ha!  ha!"  he  said,  "my  friend,  come  out  and 
play  with  me;"  and  he  urged  the  boy  till  he  con 
sented.  They  played  and  shot  their  arrows  by 
turns. 

Suddenly  the  young  boy  said,  "  Your  father  is 
coming.  We  must  stop.  Promise  me  that  you  will 
not  tell  him/' 

The  hunter's  son  promised,  and  the  other  disap 
peared  in  the  tree. 

When  the  hunter  returned  from  the  chase,  his  son 
sat  demurely  by  the  fire.  In  the  course  of  the  even 
ing  he  asked  his  father  to  make  him  a  new  bow;  and 
when  he  was  questioned  as  to  the  use  he  could  find 
for  two  bows,  he  answered  that  one  might  break  or 
get  lost. 

The  father  pleased  at  his  son's  diligence  in  the 
practice  of  the  bow,  made  him  the  two  weapons;  and 
the  next  day,  as  soon  as  his  father  had  gone  away, 
the  boy  ran  to  the  hollow  tree,  and  invited  his  little 
friend  to  come  out  and  play;  at  the  same  time  pre 
senting  to  him  the  new  bow.  They  went  and  played 
in  the  lodge  together,  and  in  their  sport  they  raised 
the  ashes  all  over  it. 

Suddenly  again  the  youngest  said,  "  Your  father  is 
coming,  I  must  leave." 

He  again  exacted  a  promise  of  secresy,  and  went 


294  THE    INDIAN    FAIBYBOOK. 

back  to  his  tree.  The  eldest  took  his  seat  near  the 
fire. 

When  the  hunter  came  in  he  was  surprised  to  see 
the  ashes  scattered  about.  "  Why,  my  son/'  he  said, 
"you  must  have  played  very  hard  to  day  to  raise 
such  a  dust  all  alone." 

"  Yes,"  the  boy  answered,  "  I  was  very  lonesome, 
and  I  ran  round  and  round — that  is  the  cause  of  it." 

The  next  day  the  hunter  made  ready  for  the  chase 
as  usual.  The  boy  said,  "  Father,  try  and  hunt  all 
day,  and  see  what  you  can  kill." 

He  had  no  sooner  set  out  than  the  boy  called  his 
friend,  and  they  played  and  chased  each  other  round 
the  lodge.  •  They  had  great  delight  in  each  other's 
company,  and  made  merry  by  the  hour.  The  hunter 
was  again  returning,  and  came  to  a  rising  ground, 
which  caught  the  winds  as  they  passed,  and  he  heard 
his  son  laughing  and  making  a  noise,  but  the  sounds 
as  they  reached  him  on  the  hill-top,  seemed  as  if 
they  arose  from  two  persons  playing. 

At  the  same  time  the  younger  boy  stopped,  and 
after  saying  "  Your  father  is  coming,"  he  stole  away, 
under  cover  of  the  high  grass,  to  his  hollow  tree, 
which  was  not  far  off. 

The  hunter,  on  entering,  found  his  son  sitting  by 
the  fire,  very  quiet  and  unconcerned,  although  he  saw 
that  all  the  articles  of  the  lodge  were  lying  thrown 
about  in  all  directions. 


WEENDIGOES    AND    THE    BONE-DWARF.      295 

« Why,  my  son,"  he  said  "  you  must  play  very 
hard  every  day;  and  what  is  it  that  you  do,  all  alone, 
to  throw  the  lodge  in  such  confusion  ?" 

The  boy  again  had  his  excuse.  "  Father,"  he  an 
swered,  "  I  play  in  this  manner  :  I  chase  and  drag  my 
blanket  around  the  lodge,  and  that  is  the  reason  you 
see  the  ashes  spread  about." 

Th«  hunter  was  not  satisfied  until  his  son  had 
shown  him  how  he  played  with  the  blanket,  which  he 
di.l  so  adroitly  as  to  set  his  father  laughing,  and  at 
last  drive  him  out  of  the  lodge  with  the  great  clouds 
of  ashes  that  he  raised. 

The  next  morning  the  boy  renewed  his  request  that 
his  father  should  be  absent  all  day,  and  see  if  he 
could  not  kill  two  deer.  The  hunter  thought  this  a 
strange  desire  on  the  part  of  his  son,  but  as  he  had 
always  humored  the  boy,  he  went  into  the  forest  as 
usual,  bent  on  accomplishing  his  wish,  if  he  could. 

As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight,  his  son  hastened  to 
his  young  companion  at  the  tree,  and  they  continued 
their  sports. 

The  father  on  nearing  his  home  in  the  evening,  as 
he  reached  the  rising  ground,  again  heard  the  sounds 
of  play  and  laughter;  and  as  the  wind  brought  them 
straight  to  his  ear,  he  was  now  certain  that  there 
were  two  voices. 

The  boy  from  the  tree  had  no  more  than  time  to 
escape,  when  the  hunter  entered,  and  found  his  son, 
sitting  as  usual,  near  the  fire.  When  he  cast  his  eyes 


296  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

around,  lie  saw  that  the  lodge  was  in  greater  confu 
sion  than  before.  "  My  son/'  he  said,  "  you  must  be 
very  foolish  when  alone  to  play  so.  But,  tell*me,  my 
son;  I  heard  two  voices,  I  am  sure;"  and  he  looked 
closely  on  the  prints  of  the  footsteps  in  the  ashes. 
"  True,"  he  continued,  "  here  is  the  print  of  a  foot 
which  is  smaller  than  my  son's;"  and  he  was  now  sat 
isfied  that  his  suspicions  were  well  founded,  and  that 
some  very  young  person  had  been  the  companion  of 
his  son. 

The  boy  could  not  now  refuse  to  tell  his  father 
what  had  happened. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "I  found  a  boy  in  the  hollow 
of  that  tree,  near  the  lodge,  where  you  placed  my 
mother's  bones." 

Strange  thoughts  came  over  the  mind  of  the 
hunter;  did  his  wife  live  again  in  this  beautiful 
child  ? 

Fearful  of  disturbing  the  dead,  he  did  not  dare  to 
visit  the  place  where  he  had  deposited  her  remains. 

He,  however,  engaged  his  son  to  entice  the  boy  to 
a  dead  tree,  by  the  edge  of  a  wood,  where  they  could 
kill  many  flying-squirrels  by  setting  it  on  fire.  He 
said  that  he  would  conceal  himself  near  by,  and  take 
the  boy. 

The  next  day  the  hunter  accordingly  went  into  the 
woods,  and  his  son,  calling  the  boy  from  the  tree, 
urged  him  to  go  with  him  to  kill  the  squirrels.  The 
boy  objected  that  his  father  was  near,  but  he  was  at 


WEENDIGOES    AND    THE    BONE-DWARF.       297 

length  prevailed  on  to  go,  and  after  they  had  fired 
the  tree,  and  while  they  were  busy  killing  or  taking 
the  squirrels,  the  hunter  suddenly  made  his  appear 
ance,  and  clasped  the  strange  boy  in  his  arms.  He 
cried  out,  "  Kago,  kago,  don't,  don't.  You  will  tear 
my  clothes  !"  for  he  was  clad  Jn  a  fine  apparel,  which 
shone  as  if  it  had  been  made  of  a  beautiful  trans 
parent  skin.  The  father  reassured  him  by  every 
means  in  his  power. 

By  constant  kindness  and  gentle  words  the  boy  was 
reconciled  to  remain  with  them*  but  chiefly  by  the 
presence  of  his  young  friend,  the  hunter's  son,  to 
whom  he  was  fondly  attached.  The  children  were 
never  parted  from  each  other;  and  when  the  hunter 
looked  upon  the  strange  boy,  he  seemed  to  see  living 
in  him  the  better  spirit  of  his  lost  wife.  He  was 
thankful  to  the  Great  Spirit  for  this  act  of  goodness, 
and  in  his  heart  he  felt  assured  that  in  time  the  boy 
would  show  great  virtue,  and  in  some  way  avenge  him 
on  the  wicked  Weendigo  who  had  destroyed  the  com 
panion  of  his  lodge. 

The  hunter  grew  at  ease  in  his  spirit,  and  gave  all 
of  the  time  he  could  spare  from  the  chase  to  the 
society  of  the  two  children  ;  but,  what  affected  him 
the  most,  both  of  his  sons,  although  they  were  well- 
formed  and  beautiful,  grew  no  more  in  stature,  but 
remained  children  still.  Every  day  they  resembled 
each  other  more  and  more,  and  they  never  ceased  to 
13* 


298  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

sport  and  divert  themselves  in  the  innocent  ways  jf 
childhood. 

One  day  the  hunter  had  gone  ahroad  with  his  bow 
and  arrows,  leaving,  at  the  request  of  the  strange 
boy,  one  of  the  two  shafts  which  the  friendly  Ween- 
digo  had  given  to  him,  Behind  in  the  lodge. 

When  he  returned,  what  were  his  surprise  and  joy 
to  see  stretched  dead  by  his  lodge-door,  the  black 
giant  who  had  slain  his  wife.  He  had  been  stricken 
down  by  the  magic  shaft  in  the  hands  of  the  little 
stranger  from  the  tree;  and  ever  after  the  boy,  or  the 
Bone-Dwarf  as  he  was  called,  was  the  guardian  and 
good  genius  of  the  lodge,  and  no  evil  spirit,  giant,  or 
Weendigo,  dared  approach  it  to  mar  their  peace. 


XXIII. 

THE   BIRD    LOVER. 

IN  a  region  of  country  where  the  forest  and  the 
prairie  strived  which  should  be  the  most  beauti 
ful — the  open  plain,  with  its  free  sunshine  and  winds 
and  flowers,  or  the  close  wood,  with  its  delicious 
twilight-walks  artd  enamored  haunts — there  lived  a 
wicked  manito  in  the  disguise  of  an  old  Indian. 

Although  the  country  furnished  an  abundance  of 
game,  and  whatever  else  a  good  heart  could  wish  for, 
it  was  the  study  of  this  wicked  genius  to  destroy 
such  as  fell  into  his  hands.  He  made  use  of  all  his 
arts  to  decoy  men  into  his  power,  for  the  purpose  of 
killing  fthem.  The  country  had  been  once  thickly 
peopled,  but  this  Mudjee  Monedo  had  so  thinned  it 
by  his  cruel  practices,  that  he  now  lived  almost  soli 
tary  in  the  wilderness. 

The  secret  of  his  success  lay  in  his  great  speed. 
He  had  the  power  to  assume  the  shape  of  any  four- 
footed  creature,  and  it  was  his  custom  to  challenge 
such  as  he  sought  to  destroy,  to  run  with  him.  He 


SOO  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY     BOOK. 

had  a  beaten  path  on  which  he  ran,  leading  aiouncl 
a  large  lake,  and  he  always  ran  around  this  circle  so 
that  the  starting  and  the  winning-post  was  the  same. 
Whoever  failed  as  e^ry  one  had,  yielded  up  his  life 
at  this  post;  and  although  he  ran  every  day,  no  man 
was  ever  known  to  beat  this  evil  genius;  for  whenever 
he  was  pressed  hard,  he  changed  himself  into  a  fox, 
wolf,  deer,  or  other  swift-footed  animal,  and  was  thus 
able  to  leave  his  competitor  behind. 

The  whole  country  was  in  dread  of  this  same  Mud- 
jee  Monedo,  and  yet  the  young  men  were  constantly 
running  with  him;  for  if  they  refused,  he  called  them 
cowards,  which  was  a  reproach  they  could  not  bear. 
They  would  rather  die  than  be  called  cowards. 

To  keep  up  his  sport,  the  manito  made  light  of 
these  deadly  foot-matches,  and  instead  of  assuming 
a  braggart  air,  and  going  about  in  a  boastful  way, 
with  the  blood  of  such  as  he  had  overcome,  upon  his 
hands,  he  adopted  very  pleasing  manners,  and  visited 
the  lodges  around  the  country  as  any  other  sweet- 
tempered  and  harmless  old  Indian  might.  * 

His  secret  object  in  these  friendly  visits  was  to 
learn  whether  the  young  boys  were  getting  old 
enough  to  run  with  him;  he  kept  a  very  sharp  eye 
upon  their  growth,  and  the  day  he  thought  them 
ready,  he  did  not  fail  to  challenge  them  to  a  trial  on 
his  racing-ground. 

There  was  not  a  family  in  all  that  beautiful  region 


THE     BIRD    LOVER.  301 

which  had  not  in  this  way  been  visited  and  thinned 
out;  and  the  manito  had  quite  naturally  come  to  be 
held  in  abhorrence  by  all  the  Indian  mothers  in  the 
country. 

It  happened  that  there  lived  near  him  a  poor 
widow  woman,  whose  husband  and  seven  sons  he  had 
made  way  with ;  and  she  was  now  living  wi^h.  an  only 
daughter,  and  a  son  of  ten  or  twelve  years  old. 

This  widow  was  very  poor  and  feeble,  and  she  suf 
fered  so  much  for  lack  of  food  and  other  comforts  of 
the  lodge,  that  she  would  have  been  glad  to  die,  but  for 
her  daughter  and  her  little  son.  The  Mudjee  Monedo 
had  already  visited  her  lodge  to  observe  whether  the 
boy  was  sufficiently  grown  to  be  challenged  to  the 
race;  and  so  crafty  in  his  approaches  and  so  soft  in 
his  manners  was  the  monedo,  that  the  mother  feared 
that  he  would  yet  decoy  the  son  and  make  way  with 
him  as  he  had  done  with  his^  father  and  his  seven 
brothers,  in  spite  of  all  her  struggles  to  save  him. 

And  yet  she  strove  with  ah1  her  might  to  strengthen 
her  son  in  every  good  course.  She  taught  him,  as  best 
she  could,  what  was  becoming  for  the  wise  hunter 
and  the  brave  warrior.  She  remembered  and  set  be 
fore  him  all  that  she  could  recall  of  the  skill  and  the 
craft  of  his  father  and  his  brothers  who^were  lost. 

The  widow  woman  also  instructed  her  daughter  in 
whatever  could  make  her  useful  as  a  wife;  and  in  the 
leisure-time  of  the  lodge,  she  gave  her  lessons  in  the 


302  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

art  of  working  with  the  quills  of  porcupine,  and 
bestowed  on  her  such  other  accomplishments  as 
should  make  her  an  ornament  and  a  blessing  to  her 
husband's  household.  The  daughter,  Minda  by 
name,  was  kind  and  obedient  to  her  mother,  and 
never  failed  in  her  duty.  Their  lodge  stood  high 
up  on  thQ  banks  of  a  lake,  which  gave  them  a  wide 
prospect  of  country,  embellished  with  groves  and 
open  fields,  which  waved  with  the  blue  light  of  their 
long  grass,  and  made,  at  all  hours  of  sun  and  moon, 
a  cheerful  scene  to  look  upon. 

Across  this  beautiful  prairie,  Minda  had  one  morn 
ing  made  her  way  to  gather  dry  limbs  for  their  fire; 
for  she  disdained  no  labor  of  the  lodge.  And  while 
enjoying  the  sweetness  of  the  air  and  the  green 
beauty  of  the  woods,  she  strolled  far  away. 

She  had  come  to  a  bank,  painted  with  flowers  of 
every  hue,  and  was  reclining  on  its  fragrant  couch, 
when  a  bird,  of  red  and  deep-blue  plumage  softly 
blended,  alighted  on  a  branch  near  by,  and  began  to 
pour  forth  its  carol.  It  was  a  bird  of  strange  char 
acter,  such  as  she  had  never  before  seen.  Its  first 
note  was  so  delicious  to  the  ear  of  Minda,  and  it  so 
pierced  to  her  young  heart,  that  she  listened  as  she 
had  never  before  to  any  mortal  or  heavenly  sound.  It 
seemed  like  the  human  voice,  forbidden  to  speak,  and 
uttering  its  language  through  this  wild  wood-chant 
with  a  mournful  melody,  as  if  it  bewailed  the  lack  of 


THE     BIRD    LOVER.  303 

• 

the  power  or  the  right  to  make  itself  more  plainl}  in* 
telligible. 

The  voice  of  the  bird  rose  and  fell,  and  circled 
round  and  round,  but  whithersoever  floated  or  spread 
out  its  notes,  they  seemed  ever  to  have  their  center 
where  Minda  sat;  and  she  looked  with  sad  eyes  into 
the  sad  eyes  of  the  mournful  bird,  that  sat  in  his  red 
and  deep-blue  plumage  just  opposite  to  the  flowery 
bank. 

The  poor  bird  strove  more  and  more  with  his  voice, 
and  seemed  ever  more  and  more  anxiously  to  address 
his  notes  of  lament  to  Minda's  ear,  till  at  last  she 
could  not  refrain  from  saying,  "  What  aileth  thee,  sad 
bird  ?" 

As  if  he  had  but  waited  to  be  spoken  to,  the  bird 
left  his  branch,  and  alighting  upon  the  bank,  smiled  on 
Minda,  and,  shaking  his  shining  plumage,  answered : 

"  I  am  bound  in  this  condition  until  a  maiden  shall 
accept  me  in  marriage.  I  have  wandered  these 
groves  and  sung  to  ma^ny  and  many  of  the  Indian 
girls,  but  none  ever  heeded  my  voice  till  you.  Will 
you  be  mine?"  he  added,  and  poured  forth  a  flood  of 
melody  which  sparkled  and  spread  itself  with  its  sweet 
murmurs  over  all  the  scene,  and  fairly  entranced  the 
young  Minda,  who  sat  silent,  as  if  she  feared  to  break 
the  charm  by  speech. 

The  bird,  approaching  nearer,  asked  her,  if  she 
Loved  him,  to  get  her  mother's  consent  to  their  mar- 


304  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY    BOOK. 

riage.  "  I  shall  be  free  then,"  said  the  bird,  "and 
you  shaE  know  me  as  I  am." 

Miuda  lingered,  and  listened  to  the  sweet  voice  of 
the  bird  in  its  own  forest  notes,  or  filling  each  pause 
with  gentle  human  discourse;  questioning  her  as  to 
her  home,  her  family,  and  the  little  incidents  of  her 
daily  life. 

She  returned  to  the  lodge  later  than  usual,  but  she 
was  too  timid  to  speak  to  her  mother  of  that  which  the 
bird  had  charged  her.  She  returned  again  and  again 
to  the  fragrant  haunt  in  the  wood;  and  everyday  she 
listened  to  the  song  and  the  discourse  of  her  bird  ad 
mirer  with  more  pleasure,  and  he  every  day  besought 
her  to  speak  to  her  mother  of  the  marriage.  This 
she  could  not,  however,  muster  heart  and  courage  tc 
do. 

At  last  the  widow  began  herself  to  have  a  suspi 
cion  that  her  daughter's  heart  was  in  the  wood,  from 
her  long  delays  in  returning,  and  the  little  success 
she  had  in  gathering  the  fire-branches  for  which  she 
went  in  search. 

In  answer  to  her  mother's  questions,  Minda  re 
vealed  the  truth,  and  made  known  her  lover's  re 
quest.  The  mother,  considering  the  lonely  and  des 
titute  condition  of  her  little  household,  gave  her  con 
sent. 

The  daughter,  with  light  steps,  hastened  with  the 
news  to  the  wood.  The  bird  lover  of  course  heard 


THE    BIRD    LOVER.  305 

it  with  delight,  and  fluttered  through  the  air  in 
happy  circles,  and  poured  forth  a  song  of  joy  which 
thrilled  Minda  to  the  heart. 

He  said  that  he  would  come  to  the  lodge  at  sun 
set,  and  immediately  took  wing,  while  Minda  hung 
fondly  upon  his  flight,  till  he  was  lost  far  away  in  the 
blue  sky. 

With  the  twilight  the  bird  lover,  whose  name  was 
Monedowa,  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  lodge,  as  a 
hunter,  with  a  red  plume  and  a  mantle  of  blue  upon 
his  shoulders. 

He  addressed  the  widow  as  his  friend,  and  she  di 
rected  him  to  sit  down  beside  her  daughter,  and  they 
were  regarded  as  man  and  wife. 

Early  on  the  following  morning,  he  asked  for  the 
bow  and  arrows  of  those  who  had  been  slain  by  the 
wicked  manito,  and  went  out  a-hunting.  As  soon  as 
he  had  got  out  of  sight  of  the  lodge,  he  changed  him 
self  into  the  wood-bird,  as  he  had  been  before  his 
marriage,  and  took  his  flight  through  the  air. 

Although  game  was  scarce  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  widow's  lodge,  Monedowa  returned  at  evening,  in 
his  character  of  a  hunter,  with  two  deer.  This  was 
his  daily  practice,  and  the  widow's  family  never  more 
lacked  for  food. 

It  was  noticed,  however,  that  Monedowa  himself 
ate  but  little,  and  that  of  a  peculiar  kind  of  meat, 
flavored  with  berries,  which,  with  other  circumstances, 


806  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

convinced  them  that  he  was  not  as  the  Indian  people 
around  him. 

In  a  few  days  his  mother-in-law  told  him  that  the 
manito  would  come  to  pay  them  a  visit,  to  see  how 
the  young  man,  her  son,  prospered. 

Monedowa  answered  that  he  should  on  that  day  be 
absent.  When  the  time  arrived,  he  flew  upon  a  tall 
tree,  overlooking  the  lodge,  and  took  his  station  there 
as  the  wicked  manito  passed  in. 

The  mudjee  monedo  cast  sharp  glances  at  the  scaf 
folds  so  well  laden  with  meat,  and  as  soon  as  he  had 
entered,  he  said,  "  Why,  who  is  it  that  is  furnishing 
you  with  meat  so  plentifully?" 

"  No  one,"  she  answered,  "  but  my  son;  he  is  just 
beginning  to  kill  deer." 

"  No,  no,"  he  retorted;  "  some  one  is  living  with 
you." 

"  Kaween,  no  indeed,"  replied  the  widow;  "you 
are  only  making  sport  of  my  hapless  condition.  Who 
do  you  think  would  come  and  trouble  themselves 
about  me?" 

"  Very  well,"  answered  the  manito,  "  I  will  go;  but 
on  such  a  day  I  will  again  visit  you,  and  see  who  it  is 
that  furnishes  the  meat,  and  whether  it  is  your  son 
or  not." 

He  had  no  sooner  left  the  lodge  and  got.  out  of 
sight,  than  the  son-in-law  made  his  appearance  with 
two  IT  ore  deer.  On  being  made  acquainted  with  the 


THE    BIRD    LOVEE.  307 

conduct  of  the  manito,  "  Very  well,"  he  said,  "  I  will 
be  at  home  the  next  time,  to  see  him." 

Both  the  mother  and  the  wife  urged  Monedowa  to 
be  aware  of  the  manito.  They  made  known  to  him 
ail  91  his  cruel  courses,  and  assured  him  that  no 
man  could  escape  from  his  power. 

"No  matter,"  said  Monedowa;  "if  he  invites  me 
to  the  race-ground,  I  will  not  be  backward.  What 
follows,  may  teach  him,  my  mother,  to  show  pity  on 
the  vanquished,  and  not  to  trample  on  the  widow  and 
thohe  who  are  without  fathers." 

When  the  day  of  the  visit  of  the  manito  arrived, 
Monedowa  told  his  wife  to  prepare  certain  pieces  of 
meat,  which  he  pointed  out  to  her,  together  with  two 
or  three  buds  of  the  birch-tree,  which  he  requested 
her  to  put  in  the  pot.  He  directed  also  that  the 
manito  should  be  hospitably  received,  as  if  he  had 
been  just  the  kind-hearted  old  Indian  he  professed  to 
be.  Monedowa  then  dressed  himself  as  a  warrior, 
embellishing  his  visage  with  tints  of  red,  to  show  that 
he  was  prepared  for  either  war  or  peace. 

As  soon  as  the  mudjee  monedo  arrived,  he  eyed  this 
strange  warrior  whom  he  had  never  seen  before;  but 
he  dissembled,  as  usual,  and,  with  a  gentle  laugh, 
said  to  the  widow,  "  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  some  one 
was  staying  with  you,  for  I  knew  your  son  was  too 
young  to  hunt." 

The  widow  excused  herself  by  saying  that  she  did 


308  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

not  think  it  necessary  to  tell  him,  inasmuch  as  he 
was  a  manito,  and  must  have  known  before  he 
asked. 

The  manito  was  very  pleasant  with  Monedowa, 
and  after  much  other  discourse,  in  a  gentle-spoken 
voice,  he  invited  him  to  the  racing-ground,  saying  it 
was  a  manly  amusement,  that  he  would  have  an  ex 
cellent  chance  to  meet  there  with  other  warriors,  and 
that  he  should  himself  be  pleased  to  run  with  him. 

Monedowa  would  have  excused  himself,  saying 
that  he  knew  nothing  of  running. 

"  Why,"  replied  the  mudjee  monedo,  trembling  in 
every  limb  as  he  spoke,  "  don't  you  see  how  old  I 
look,  while  you  are  young  and  full  of  life.  We  must 
at  least  run  a  little  to  amuse  others." 

"  Be  it  so,  then/'  replied  Monedowa.  "  I  will 
oblige  you.  I  will  go  in  the  morning." 

Pleased  with  his  crafty  success,  the  manito  would 
have  now  taken  his  leave,  but  'he  was  pressed  to  re 
main  and  partake  of  their  hospitality.  The  meal 
was  immediately  prepared.  But  one  dish  was  used. 

Monedowa  partook  of  it  first,  to  show  his  guest  that 
he  need  not.  fear,  saying  at  the  same  time,  "  It  is  a 
feast,  and  as  we  seldom  meet,  we  must  eat  all  that  is 
placed  on  the  dish,  as  a  mark  of  gratitude  to  the 
Great  Spirit  for  permitting  me  to  kill  animals,  and 
for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  and  partaking  of  it 
with  you." 


THE     BIRD    LOVER.  309 

They  ate  and  talked,  on  this  and  that,  until  they 
had  nearly  dispatched  the  meal,  when  the  manito 
took  up  the  dish  and  drank  off  the  broth  at  a  breath. 
On  setting  it  down  he  immediately  turned  his  head 
and  commenced  coughing  with  great  violence.  The 
old  body  in  which  he  had  disguised  himself  was  well- 
nigh  shaken  in  pieces,  for  he  had,  as  Monedowa  ex 
pected,  swallowed  a  grain  of  the  birch-bud,  and  this, 
which  relished  to  himself  as  being  of  the  bird  nature, 
greatly  distressed  the  old  manito,  who  partook  of  the 
character  of  an  animal,  or  four-footed  thing. 

He  was  at  last  put  to  such  confusion  of  face  by 
his  constant  coughing,  that  he  was  enforced  to  leave, 
saying,  or  ratherriiccoughing  as  he  left  the  lodge,  that 
he  should  look  for  the  young  man  at  the  racing- 
ground  in  the  morning. 

When  the  morning  came,  Monedowa  was  early 
astir,  oiling  his  limbs  and  enameling  his  breast  and 
arms  with  red  and  blue,  resembling  the  plumage  in 
which  he  had  first  appeared  to  Minda.  Upon  his  brow 
he  placed  a  tuft  of  feathers  of  the  same  shining  tints. 

By  his  invitation  his  wife,  Minda,  the  mother  and 
aer  young  son,  attended  Monedowa  to  the  manito's 
racing-ground. 

The  lodge  of  the  manito  stood  upon  a  high  ground, 
and  near  it  stretched  out  a  long  row  of  other  lodges, 
said  to  be  possessed  by  wicked  kindred  of  his,  who 
shared  in  the  spoils  of  his  cruelty. 


310  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

As  soon  as  the  young  hunter  and  his  party  ap 
proached,  the  inmates  appeared  at  their  lodge-doors 
and  cried  out : 

"  We  are  visited." 

At  this  cry,  the  mudjee  monedo  came  'forth  and 
descended  with  his  companions  to  the  starting-post  on 
the  plain.  From  this  the  course  could  be  seen,  wind 
ing  in  a  long  girdle  about  the  lake  ;  and  as  they  were 
now  all  assembled,  the  olc^  manito  began  to  speak  of 
the  race,  belted  himself  up  and  pointed  to  the  post, 
which  was  an  upright  pillar  of  stone. 

"  But  before  we  start,"  said  the  manito,  "  I  wish  it 
to  be  understood  that  when  men  run  with  me  I  make* 
a  wager,  and   I   expect   them   to  amde   by  it — life 
against  life." 

"  Very  well — be  it  so,"  answered  Monedowa.  "  We 
shall  see  whose  head  is  to  be  dashed  against  the 
stone." 

"  We  shall,"  rejoined  the  mudjee  monedo.  "  I  am. 
very  old,  but  I  shall  try  and  make  a  run." 

"  Very  well,"  again  rejoined  Monedowa  ;  "  I  hope 
we  shall  both  stand  to  our  bargain." 

"  Good  !"  said  the  old  manito  ;  and  he  at  the  same 
time  cast  a  sly  glance  at  the  young  hunter,  and  rolled 
his  eyes  toward  where  stood  the  pillar  of  stone. 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  Monedowa. 

The  starting  shout  was  given,  and  they  set  off  at 
high  speed,  the  manito  leading,  and  Monedowa  press- 


THE    BIRD    LOVER.  311 

ing  closely  after.  As  he  closed  upon  him,  the  old 
manito  began  to  show  his  power,  and  changing  him 
self  into  a  fox  he  passed  the  young  hunter  with  ease, 
and  went  leisurely  along. 

Monedowa  now,  with  a  glance  upward,  took  the 
shape  of  the  strange  bird  of  red  and  deep-blue 
plumage,  and  with  one  flight,  lighting  at  some  dis 
tance  ahead  of  the  manito,  resumed  his  mortal  shape. 

When  the  mudjee  monedo  espied  his  competitor 
before  him,  "  Whoa  !  whoa  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  this  is 
strange  ;"  and  he  immediately  changed  himself  into 
a  wolf,  and  sped  past  Monedowa. 

As  he  galloped  by,  Monedowa  heard  a  noise  from 
his  throat,  and  he  knew  that  he  was  still  in  distress 
from  the  birch-bud  which  he  had  swallowed  at  his 
mother-in-law's  lodge. 

Monedowa  again  took  wing,  and,  shooting  into  the 
air,  he  descended  suddenly  with  great  swiftness,  and 
took  the  path  far  ahead  of  the  olcUmanito. 

As  he  passed  the  wolf  he  whispered  in  his  ear : 

"  My  friend,  is  this  the  extent  of  your  speed  ?" 

The  manito  began  to  be  troubled  with  bad  forebod 
ings,  for,  on  looking  ahead,  he  saw  the  young  hunter 
in  his  own  manly  form,  running  along  at  leisure.  The 
mudjee  monedo,  seeing  the  necessity  of  more  speed, 
now  passed  Monedowa  in  the  shape  of  a  deer. 

They  wei  e  now  far  around  the  circle  of  the  lake, 
and  fast  closing  in  upon  the  starting-post,  when 


312  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

Monedowa,  putting  on  his  red  and  blue  plumage, 
glided  along  the  air  and  alighted  upon  the  track  far 
in  advance. 

To  ovdttake  him,  the  old  manito  assumed  the  shape 
of  the  buffalo  ;  and  he  pushed  on  with  such  long  gal 
lops  that  he  was  again  the  foremost  on  the  course. 
The  buffalo  was  the  last  change  he  could  make,  and 
it  was  in  this  form  that  he  had  most  frequently  con 
quered. 

The  young  hunter,  once  more  a  bird,  in  the  act  of 
passing  the  manito,  saw  his  tongue  lolling  from  his 
mouth  with  fatigue. 

"  My  friend,"  said  Monedowa,  "  is  this  all  your 
speed  ?" 

The  manito  made  no  answer.  Monedowa  had  re 
sumed  his  character  of  a  hunter,  and  was  within  a 
run  of  the  winning-post,  when  the  wicked  manito  had 
nearly  overtaken  him. 

"  Bakah  !  bakah  1  nejee  !"  he  called  out  to  Mone 
dowa  ;  "  stop,  my  friend,  I  wish  to  talk  to  you." 

Monedowa  laughed  aloud  as  he  replied  : 

"  I  will  speak  to  yo?i  at  the  starting-post.  When 
men  run  with  me  I  make  a  wager,  and  I  expect  them 
to  abide  by  it — life  against  life." 

One  more  flight  as  the  blue  bird  with  red  wings, 
and  Monedowa  was  so  near  to  the  goal  that  he  could 
easily  reach  it  in  his  mortal  shape.  Shining  in 
beauty,  his  face  lighted  up  like  the  sky,  with  tinted 


THE    BIRD   LOVER.  313 

arms  and  bosom  gleaming  in  the  sun.  and  the  parti 
colored  plume  on  his  brow  waving  in  the  wind.  Mo 
nedowa,  cheered  by  a  joyful  shout  from  his  own  peo 
ple,  leaped  to  the  post. 

The  manito  came  on  with  fear  in  his  face. 

"  My  friend/7  he  said,  "  spare  my  life  ;"  and  then 
added,  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  he  would  not  that  the 
others  should  hear  it,  "  Give  me  to  live."  And  he  be 
gan  to  move  off  as  if  the  request  had  been  granted. 

"  As  you  have  done  to  others,"  replied  Monedowa, 
"  so  shall  it  be  done  to  you." 

And  seizing  the  wicked  manito,  he  dashed  him 
against  the  pillar  o£  stone.  His  kindred,  who  were 
looking  on  in  horror,  raised  a  cry  of  fear  and  fled  away 
in  a  body  to  some  distant  land,  whence  they  have 
never  returned. 

The  widow's  family  left  the  scene,  and  when  they 
had  all  come  out  into  the  open  fields,  they  walked  on 
together  until  they  had  reached  the  fragrant  bank 
and  the  evergreen  wood,  where  the  daughter  had  first 
encountered  her  bird  lover. 

Monedowa  turning  to  her,  said  : 

"  My  mother,  here  we  must  part.  Your  daughter 
and  myself  must  now  leave  you.  The  Good  Spirit, 
moved  with  pity,  has  allowed  me  to  be  your  friend. 
I  have  done  that  for  which  I  was  sent.  I  am  per 
mitted  to  take  with  me  the  one  whom  I  love.  I  have 

found  your  daughter  ever  kind,  gentle  and  just.     She 
14 


314  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

shall  be  my  companion.  The  blessing  of  the  Good 
Spirit  be  ever  with  you.  Farewell,  rny  mother — my 
brother,  farewell." 

While  the  widow  woman  was  still  lost  in  wonder  at 
these  words,  Monedowa,  and  Minda  his  wife,  changed 
at  the  same  moment,  rose  into  the  air,  as  beautiful 
birds,  clothed  in  shining  colors  of  red  and  blue. 

They  caroled  together  as  they  flew,  and  their  songs 
were  happy,  and  falling,  falling,  like  clear  drops,  as 
they  rose,  and  rose,  and  winged  their  way  far  upward, 
a  delicious  peace  came  into  the  mind  of  the  poor 
widow  woman,  and  she  returned  to  her  lodge  deeply 
thankful  at  heart  for  all  the  goodness  that  had  been 
shown  to  her  by  the  Master  of  Life. 

From  that  day  forth  she  never  knew  want,  and  her 
young  son  proved  a  comfort  to  her  lodge,  and  the 
tuneful  carol  of  Monedowa  and  Minda,  as  it  fell  from 
heaven,  was  a  music  always,  go  whither  she  would, 
sounding  peace  and  joy  in  her  ear. 


XXIV. 

BOKWEWA, THE  HUMPBACK. 

T)  OKWEWA  -and  his  brother  lived  in  a  far-off 
-U  part  of  the  country.  By  such  as  had  knowledge 
of  them,  Bokwewa,  the  elder,  although  deformed  and 
feeble  of  person,  was  considered  a  manito,  who  had 
assumed  the  mortal  shape;  while  his  younger  brother, 
Kwasynd,  manly  in  appearance,  active,  and  strong, 
partook  of  the  nature  of  the  present  race  of  beings. 

They  lived  off  the  path,  in  a  wild,  lonesome  place, 
far  retired  from  neighbors,  and,  undisturbed  by  cares, 
they  passed  their  time,  content  and  happy.  The 
days  glided  by  serenely  as  the  river  that  flowed  by 
their  lodge. 

Owing  to  his  lack  of  strength,  Bokwewa  never  en 
gaged  in  the  chase,  but  gave  his  attention  entirely  to 
the  affairs  of  the  lodge.  In  the  long  winter  evenings 
he  passed  the  time  in  telling  his  brother  stories  of  the 
giants,  spirits,  weendigoes,  and  fairies  of  the  elder 
age,  when  they  had  the  exclusive  charge  of  the  world. 
He  also  at  times  taught  -his  brother  the  manner  in 


316  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

which  game  should  be  pursued,  pointed  out  to  him 
the  ways  of  the  different  beasts  and  birds  of  the 
chase,  and  assigned  the  seasons  at  which  they  could 
be  hunted  with  most  success. 

For  a  while  the  brother  was  eager  to  learn,  and 
keenly  attended  to  his  duties  as  the  provider  of  the 
lodge;  but  at  length  he  grew  weary  of  their  tranquil 
life,  and  began  to  have  a  desire  to  show  himself  among 
men.  He  became  restive  in  their  retirement,  and 
was  seized  with  a  longing  to  visit  remote  places. 

One  day,  Kwasynd  told  his  brother  that  he  should. 
leave  him;  that  he  wished  to  visit  the  habitations  of 
men,  and  to  procure  a  wife. 

Bokwewa  objected;  but  his  brother  overruled  all 
that  he  said,  and  in  spite  of  every  remonstrance,  he 
departed  on  his  travels. 

He  traveled  for  a  long  time.  At  length  he  fell  in 
with  the  footseps  of  men.  They  were  moving  by 
encampments,  for  he  saw,  at  several  spots,  the  poles 
where  they  had  passed.  It  was  winter;  and  com 
ing  to  a  place  where  one  of  their  company  had  died, 
he  found  upon  a  scaffold,  lying  at  length  in  the  cold 
blue  air,  the  body  of  a  beautiful  young  woman.  "  She 
shall  be  my  wife!"  exclaimed  Kwasynd. 

He  lifted  her  up,  and  bearing  her  in  his  arms,  he 
returned  to  his  brother.  "  Brother,"  he  said,  "  can 
not  you  restore  ]^er  to  life?  Oh,  do  me  that  favor  !" 

He  looked  upon  the  beautiful  female  with  a  long- 


THE    HUMPBACK.  317 

ing  gaze;  but  she  lay  as  cold  and  silent  as  when  he 
had  found  her  upon  the  scaffold. 

"  I  will  try/'  said  Bokwewa. 

These  words  had  been  scarcely  breathed,  when  the 
young  woman  rose  up,  opened  her  eyes,  and  looked 
upon  Bokwewa  with  a  smile,  as  if  she  had  known  him 
before. 

To  Kwasynd  she  paid  no  heed  whatever  ;  but  pres 
ently  Bokwewa,  seeing  how  she  lingered  in  her  gaze 
upon  himself,  said  to  her,  "  Sister,  that  is  your  hus 
band,"  pointing  to  Kwasynd. 

She  listened  to  his  voice,  and  crossing  the  lodge, 
she  sat  by  Kwasynd,  and  they  were  man  and  wife. 

For  a  long  time  they  alNived  contentedly  together. 
Bokwewa  was  very  kind  to  his  brother,  and  sought  to 
render  his  days  happy.  He  was  ever  within  the 
lodge,  seeking  to  have  it  in  readiness  against  the  re 
turn  of  Kwasynd  from  the  hunt.  And  by  following 
his  directions,  which  were  those  of  one  deeply  skilled 
in  the  chase,  Kwasynd  always  succeeded  in  returning 
with  a  good  store  of  meat. 

But  the  charge  of  the  two  -brothers  was  greatly 
lightened  by  the  presence  of  the  spirit- wife;  for  with 
out  labor  of  the  hand,  she  ordered  the  lodge,  and  as 
she  willed,  every  thing  took  its  place,  and  was  at 
once  in  proper  array.  The  wish  of  her  heart  seemed 
to  control  whatever  she  looked  upon,  and  it  obeyed 
her  desire. 


318  THE     INDIAN     FAIRY     BOOK. 

But  it  was  still  more  to  the  surprise  of  her  hus 
band  Kwasynd  that  she  never  partook  of  food,  nor 
shared  in  any  way  the  longings  and  appetites  of  a 
mortal  creature.  She  had  never  been  seen  arranging 
her  hair,  like  other  females,  or  at  work  upon  her  gar 
ments,  and  yet  they  were  ever  seemly,  and  without, 
blemish  or  disorder. 

Behold  her  at  any  hour,  she  was  ever  beautiful, 
and  she  seemed  to  need  no  ornament,  nor  nourish 
ment,  nor  other  aid,  .to  give  grace  or  strength  to  her 
looks. 

Kwasynd,  when  the  first  wonder  of  her  ways  had 
passed,  payed  little  heed  to  her  discourse  ;  he  was' 
engrossed  with  the  hunt,  and  chose  rather  to  be 
abroad,  pursuing  the  wild  game,  or  in  the  lodge,  en 
joying  its  savory  spoil,  than  the  society  of  his  spirit- 
wife. 

But  Bokwewa  watched  closely  every  word  that  fell 
from  her  lips,  and  often  forgot,  like  her,  all  mortal 
appetite  and  care  of  the  body,  in  conferring  with  her, 
and  noting  what  she  had  to  say  of  spirits  and  fairies, 
of  stars,  and  streams  that  never  ceased  to  flow,  and 
the  delight  01  the  happy  hunting-grounds,  and  the 
groves  of  the  blessed. 

One  day  Kwasynd  had  gone  out  as  usual,  and 
Bokwewa  was  sitting  in  the  lodge,  on  the  opposite 
side  to  his  brother's  wife,  when  she  suddenly  ex 
claimed  : 


THE    HUMPBACK.  319 

"  I  must  leave  you,"  as  a  tall  young  man,  whose 
face  was  like  the  sun  in  its  brightness,  entered,  and 
taking  her  by  the  hand  he  led  her  to  the  door. 

She  made  no  resistance,  but  turning  as  she  left  th*: 
lodge,  she  cast  upon  Bokwewa  a  smile  of  kind  regard, 
and  was  at  once,  with  her  companion,  gone  from  his 
view. 

He  ran  to  the  door  and  glanced  about.  He  saw 
nothing  ;  but  looking  far  off  in  the  sky,  he  thought 
that  he  could  discover,  at  a  great  distance,  a  shining 
track,  and  the  dim  figures  of  two  who  were  vanishing 
in  heaven. 

When  his  brother  returned,  Bokwewa  related  all 
to  him  exactly  as  it  had  happened. 

The  face  of  Kwasynd  changed,  and  was  dark  as  the 
night.  For  several  days  he  would  not  taste  food. 
Sometimes  he  would  fall  to  weeping  for  a  long  time, 
and  now  only  it  seemed  that  he  remembered  how  gen- 
AQ  and  beautiful  had  been  the  ways  of  her  who  was 
lost.  At  last  he  said  that  he  would  go  in  search  of 
her.  . 

Bokwewa  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  it ;  but  he 
would  not  be  turned  aside  from  his  purpose. 

"Since  you  are  resolved,"  said  Bokwewa,  "listen 
to  m^  advice.  You  will  have  to  go  South.  It  is  a 
long  distance  to  the  present  abiding-place  of  your 
wife,  and  there  are  so  many  charms  and  temptations 
by  the  way  that  I  fear  you  will  be  led  astray  and  for- 


320  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

get  your  errand.  For  the  people  whom  you  will  see 
in  the  country  through  which  you  have  to  pass,  do 
nothing  but  amuse  themselves.  They  are  very  idle, 
gay  and  effeminate,  and  I  fear  that  they  will  lead  you 
astray.  Tour  path  is  beset  with  dangers.  I  will 
mention  one  or  two  things  which  you  must  be  on  your 
guard  against. 

"  In  the  course  of  your  journey  you  will  come  to  a 
large  grape-vine  lying  across  your  path.  You  must 
not  even  taste  its  fruity  for  it  is  poisonous.  Step  over 
it.  It  is  a  snake.  You  will  next  come  to  something 
that  looks  like  bear's  fat,  of  which  you  are  so  fond. 
Touch  it  not,  or  you  will  be  overcome  by  the  soft  hab 
its  of  the  idle  people.  It  is  frog's  eggs.  These  are 
snares  laid  by  the  way  for  you." 

Kwasynd  promised  that  he  would  observe  the  ad 
vice  and  bidding  his  brother  farewell,  he  set  out. 
After  traveling  a  long  time  he  came  to  the  enchanted 
grape-vine.  It  looked  so  tempting,  with  its  swelling 
purple  clusters,  that  he  forgot  his  brother's  warning, 
and  tasted  the  fruit.  He  went  on  till  he  came  to  the 
frog's  eggs.  They  so  much  resembled  delicious  bear's 
fat  that  Kwasynd  tasted  them.  He  still  went  on. 

At  length  he  came  to  a  wide  plain.  As  he  emerged 
from  the  forest  the  sun  was  falling  in  the  west,  and 
it  cast  its  scarlet  and  golden  shades  far  over  the 
country.  The  air  was  perfectly  calm,  and  the  whole 
prospect  had  the  air  of  an  enchanted  land.  Fruits 


321 


flowers,  and  delicate  blossoins;  lured  the  eye  and 
delighted  the  senses. 

At  a  distance  he  beheld  a  large  village,  swarming 
with  people,  and  as  he  drew  near  he  discovered 
women  beating  corn  in  silver  mortars. 

When  they  saw  Kwasynd  approaching,  they  cried 
out  : 

"  Bokwewa's  brother  has  come  to  see  us." 

Throngs  of  men  and  women,  in  bright  apparel, 
hurried  out  to  meet  him. 

He  was  soon,  having  already  yielded  to  temptation 
by  the  way,  overcome  by  their  fair  looks  and  soft 
speeches,  and  he  was  not  long  afterward  seen  beating 
corn  with  the  women,  having  entirely  abandoned  all 
further  quest  for  his  lost  wife. 

Meantime,  Bokwewa,  alone  in  the  lodge,  often  mus 
ing  upon  the  discourse  of  the  spirit-wife,  who  was 
gone,  waited  patiently  his  brother's  return.  After  the 
lapse  of  several  years,  when  no  tidings  could  be  had, 
he  set  out  in  search  of  him,  and  he  arrived  in  safety 
among  the  soft  and  idle  people  of  the  South.  He 
met  the  same  allurements  by  the  way,  and  they 
gathered  around  him  on  his  coming  as  they  had 
around  his  brother  Kwasynd  ;  but  Bokwewa  was 
proof  against  their  flattery.  He  only  grieved  in  his 
heart  that  any  should  yield. 

He  shed  tears  of  pity  to  see  that  his  brother  had 
laid  aside  the  .  arms  of  a  hunter,  and  that  he  wa? 


322"  THE     INDIAN     FAlkY     BOOK. 

beating  corn  with  the  women,  indifferent  to  the  fate 
and  the  fortune  of  his  lost  wife. 

Bokwewa  ascertained  that  his  brother's  wife  had 
passed  on  to  a  country  beyond. 

After  deliberating  for  a  time,  and  spending  several 
days  in  a  severe  fast,  he  set  out  in  the  direction 
where  he  saw  that  a  light  shone  from  the  sky. 

It  was  far  off,  but  Bokwewa  had  a  stout  heart;  and 
strong  in  the  faith  that  he  was  now  on  the  broad  path 
toward  the  happy  land,  he  pressed  forward:  For 
many  days  he  traveled  without  encountering  any 
thing  unusual.  And  now  plains  of  vast  extent,  and 
rich  in  waving  grass,  began  to  pass  before  his  eyes. 
He  saw  many  beautiful  groves,  and  heard  the  songs 
of  countless  birds. 

At  length  he  began  to  fail  in  strength  for  lack  of 
food ;  when  he  suddenly  reached  a  high  ground. 
From  this  he  caught  the  first  glimpse  of  the  other 
land.  But  it  appeared  to  be  still  far  off,  and  all  the 
country  between,  partly  vailed  in  silvery  mists,  glit 
tered  with  lakes  and  streams  of  water.  As  he  press 
ed  on,  Bokwewa  came  in  sight  of  innumerable  herds 
of  stately  deer,  moose,  and  other  animals  which 
walked  near  his  path,  and  they  appeared  to  have  no 
fear  of  man. 

And  now  again  as  he  wound  about  in  his  course, 
and  faced  the  north  once  more,  he  beheld,  coming  to 
ward  him,  an  immense  number  of  men,  women,  and 


THE    HUMPBACK.  323 

children,  pressing  forward  in  the  direction  of  the 
shining  land. 

In  this  vast  throng  Bokwewa  beheld  persons  of 
every  age,  from  the  little  infant,  the  sweet  and  lovely 
penaisee,  or  younger  son,  to  the  feeble,  gray  old  man, 
stooping  under  the  burden  of  his  years. 

All  whom  Bokwewa  met,  of  every  name  and  de 
gree,  were  heavily  laden  with  pipes,  weapons,  bows-, 
arrows,  kettles  and  other  wares  and  implements. 

One  man  stopped  him,  and  complained  of  the 
weary  load  he  was  carrying.  Another  offered  him  a 
kettle;  another  his  bow  and  arrows;  but  he  declined 
all,  and,  free  of  foot,  hastened  on. 

And  now  he  met  women  wiio  were  carrying  their 
basket-work,  and  painted  paddles,  and  little  boys, 
wifh  their  embellished  war-clubs  and  bows  and  ar 
rows,  the  gift  of  their  friends. 

With  this  mighty  throng,  Bokwewa  was  borne 
along  for  two  days  and  nights,  when  he  arrived  at  a 
country  so  still  and  shining,  and  JG  beautiful  in  its 
woods  and  groves  and  plains,  that  he  knew  it  was 
here  that  he  should  find  the  lost  spirit-wife. 

He  had  scarcely  entered  this  fair  country,  with  a 
sense  of  home  and  the  return  to  things  familiar 
strong  upon  him,  when  there  appeared  before  him  the 
lost  spirit-wife  herself,  who,  taking  him  by  the  hand, 
gave  him  welcome,  saying,  "  My  brother,  I  am  glad 
to  see  you  Welcome!  welcome!  You  are  now  in 
your  native  land !" 


XXV. 

THE  CRANE  THAT  CROSSED  THE  RI7ER. 

A  FAMOUS  hunter  who  lived  in  a  remote  part  of 
the  North  had  a  fair  wife  and  two  sons,  whc 
were  left  in  the  lodge  every  day  while  he  went  out  in 
quest  of  the  animals  whose  flesh  was  their  principal 
support. 

Game  was  very  abundant  in  those  days,  and  his  la 
bors  in  the  chase  were  well  rewarded.  They  lived  a 
long  distance  from  any  other  lodge,  and  it  was  seldom 
that  they  saw  any  other  faces  than  those  of  their  own 
household. 

The  two  sons  were  still  too  young  to  follow  their 
father  in  the  hunt,  and  they  were  in  the  habit  of  di 
verting  themselves  within  reach  of  the  lodge. 

While  thus  engaged,  they  began  to  take  note  that 
a  young  man  visited  the  lodge  during  their  father's 
absence,  and  that  these  visits  were  constantly  re 
newed. 

At  length  the  elder  of  the  two  said  to  his  mother : 

"  My  mother,  who  is  this   tall  young  man   that 


THE    CRANE    THAT    CROSSED    THE    RIVER.      325 

comes  here  so  often  during  our  father's  absence  ? 
Does  he  wish  to  see  him  ?  Shall  I  tell  him  when  he 
comes  back  this  evening  ?" 

"  Naubesah,  you  little  fool/'  said  the  mother, 
"  mind  your  bow  and  arrows,  and  do  not  be  afraid  to 
enter  the  forest  in  search  of  birds  and  squirrels,  with 
your  little  brother.  It  is  not  manly  to  be  ever  about 
the  lodge.  Nor  will  you  become  a  warrior  if  you  tell 
all  the  little  things  that  you  see  and  hear  to  your 
father.  Say  not  a  word  to  him." 

The  boys  obeyed,  but  as  they  grew  older  and  still 
noticed  the  visits  of  the  stranger,  they  resolved  to 
speak  again  to  their  mother. 

They  now  told  her  that  they  meant  to  make  known 
to  their  father  all  that  they  had  witnessed,  for  they 
frequently  saw  this  young  man  passing  through  the 
woods,  and  he  did  not  walk  in  the  path,  nor  did  he 
carry  any  thing  to  eat.  If  he  had  any  message  to  de 
liver  at  their  lodge,  why  did  he  not  give  it  to  their 
father  ?  for  they  had  observed  thtit  messages  were 
always  addressed  to  men,  and  not  to  women. 

When  her  sons  spoke  thus  to  her,  the  mother  was 
greatly  vexed. 

"  I  will  kill  you,"  she  said,  "  if  you  speak  of  it." 

In  fear  they  for  a  time  held  their  peace,  but  still 
taking  note  that  the  stranger  came  so  often  and  by 
stealth  to  the  lodge,  they  resolved  at  last  to  speak 
with  their  father. 


326  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

Accordingly  one  day,  when  they  were  out  in  the 
^oods,  learning  to  follow  the  chase,  they  told  him  all 
that  they  had  seen. 

The  face  of  the  father  grew  dark.  He  was  still  foi 
a  while,  and  when  at  length  he  looked  up — 

"  It  is  ftone  !"  he  said.  "  Do  you,  my  children, 
tarry  here  until  the  hour  of  the  falling  of  the  sun, 
then  come  to  the  lodge  and  you  will  find  me." 

The  father  left  them  at  a  slow  pace,  and  they  re 
mained  sporting  away  their  time  till  the  hour  for 
their  return  had  come. 

When  they  reached  the  lodge  the  mother  was  not 
there.  They  dared  not  to  ask  their  father  whither 
she  had  gone,  and  from  that  day  forth  her  name  was 
never  spoken  again  in  the  lodge. 

In  course  of  time  the  two  boys  had  grown  to  be 
men,  and  although  the  mother  was  never  more  seen 
in  the  lodge,  in  charge  of  her  household  tasks,  nor  on 
the  path  in  the  forest,  nor  by  the  river  side,  she  still 
lingered,  ever  and  ever,  near  the  lodge. 

Changed,  but  the  same,  with  ghastly  looks  and  arms 
that  were  withered,  she  appeared  to  her  sons  as  they 
returned  from  the  hunt,  in  the  twilight,  in  the  close 
of  the  day. 

At  night  she  darkly  unlatched  the  lodge-door  and 
glided  in,  and  bent  over  them  as  they  sought  to  sleep. 
Oftenest  it  was  her  bare  brow,  white,  and  bony,  and 
bodyless,  that  they  saw  floating  in  the  air,  and  mak- 


THE    CRANE    THAT    CROSSED    THE   RIVER.      327 

ing  a  mock  of  them  in  the  wild  paths  of  the  forest,  01 
in  the  midnight  darkness  of  the  lodge. 

She  was  a  terror  to  all  their  lives,  and  she  made 
every  spot  where  they  had  seen  her;  hideous  to  the 
living  eye;  so  that  after  being  long  buffeted  and  be 
set,  they  at  last  resolved,  together  with  their  father, 
now  stricken  in  years,  to  leave  the  country. 

They  began  a  journey  toward  the  South.  After 
traveling  many  days  along  the  shore  of  a  great  lake, 
they  passed  around  a  craggy  bluff,  and  came  upon  a 
scene  where  there  was  a  rough  fall  of  waters,  and  a 
river  issuing  forth  from  the  lake. 

They  had  no  sooner  come  in  sight  of  this  fall  of 
water,  than  they  heard  a  rolling  sound  behind  them, 
and  looking  back,  they  beheld  the  skull  of  a  woman 
rolling  along  the  beach.  It  seemed  to  be  pursuing 
them,  and  it  came  on  with  great  speed;  when,  be 
hold,  from  out  of  the  woods  hard  by,  appeared  a  head 
less  body,  which  made  for  the  beach  with  the  utmost 
dispatch. 

The  skull  too  advanced  toward  it,  and  when  they 
looked  again,  lo  !  they  had  united,  and  were  making 
all  haste  to  coine  up  with  the  hunter  and  his  two 
sons.  They  now  might  well  be  in  extreme  fear,  for 
they  knew  not  how  to  escape  her. 

At  this  moment,  one  of  them  looked  out  and  saw 
a  stately  crane  sitting  on  a  rock  in  the  middle  of  the 
rapids.  They  called  out  to  the  bird,  "  See,  grand- 


328  THE     INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

father,  we  are  persecuted.  Come  and  take  us-acr^s 
the  falls  that  we  may  escape  her." 

The  crane  so  addressed  was  of  extraordinary  size, 
and  had  arrived  at  a  great  old  age,  and,  as  might  be 
expected,  he  sat,  when  first  descried  by  the  two  sons, 
in  a  state  of  profound  thought,  revolving  his  long  ex 
perience  of  life  there  in  the  midst  of  the  most  vio 
lent  eddies. 

When  he  heard  himself  appealed  to,  the  crane 
stretched  forth  his  neck  with  great  deliberation,  and 
lifting  himself  slowly  by  his  wings,  he  flew  across  to 
their  assistance. 

"  Be  careful,"  said  the  old  crane,  "  that  you  do 
not  touch  the  crown  of  my  head.  I  am  bald  from 
age  and  long  service,  and  very  tender  at  that  spot. 
Should  you  be  so  unlucky  as  to  lay  a  hand  upon  it,  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  avoid  throwing  you  both  in  the 
rapids." 

They  paid  strict  heed  to  his  directions,  and  were 
soon  safely  landed  on  the  other  shore  of  the  river. 
He  returned  and  carried  the  father  in  the  same  way* 
and  then  took  his  place  once  more  where  he  had  been 
first  seen  in  the  very  midst  of  the  eddies  of  the  stream. 

But  the  woman,"  who  had  by  this  time  reached  the 
shore,  cried  out,  "  Come,  my  grandfather,  and  carry 
rne  over,  for  I  have  lost  my  children,  and  I  am  sorely 
distressed." 

The  aged  bird  obeyed  her  summons,  and  flew  to 


THE*CRANE    THAT    CROSSED    THE    RIVER.      329 

her  side.  He  carefully  repeated  the  warning  that  she 
was  not  to  touch  the  crown  of  his  head;  and  he  was 
so  anxious  that  she  should  take  it  to  heart,  that  he 
went  over  it  a  second  and  a  third  time,  word  by  word. 
He  hegged  her  to  bear  in  mind  that  she  should  re 
spect  his  old  age,  if  there  was  any  sense  of  virtue 
left  in  her. 

She  promised  to  obey;  but  they  were  no  sooner 
fairly  embarked  in  the  stream,  than  she  stealthily 
sought  to  disregard  the  warning  she  had  received.. 
Instantly  the  crane  cast  her  into  the*  rapids,  and 
shook  his  wings  as  if  to  free  himself  of  all  acquaint 
ance  with  her. 

"  There,"   said  he,  as  she   sunk  in  the    stream, 

• 

"  you  would  ever  do  what  was  forbidden.  In  life,  as 
you  sought  those  you  should  have  avoided,  so  now 
you  shall  be  avoided  by  those  who  should  seek  you. 
Go,  and  be  henceforth  Addum  Kum  Maig  \" 

The  woman  disappeared,. was  straightway  carried 
by  the  rapid  currents  far  out  into  the  waters,  and  in 
the  wide  wilderness  of  shoreless  depths,  without  com 
panion  or  solace,  was  lost  forever. 

The  family  of  the  hunter,  grateful  for  his  generous 
help,  adopted  the  bird  as  their  family  emblem  or 
mark,  and  under  the  guardianship  of  the  Crane  that 
Crossed  the  Kiver,  they  prospered,  with  days  of  plenty 
and  nights  of  peace. 


XXVI. 

WUNZH.  THE  FATHER  OF  INDIAN  CORN. 

IN  time  past — we  can  not  tell  exactly  how  many/ 
many  years  ago — a  poor  Indian  was  living,  with 
his  wife  and  children,  in  a  heautiful  part  of  the 
country.  He  was  not  only  poor,  but  he  had  the  mis 
fortune  to  be  inexpert  in  procuring  food  for  his  fam 
ily,  and  his  children  were  all  too  young  to  give  him 
assistance. 

Although  of  a  lowly  condition  and  straitened  in 
his  circumstances,  he  was  a  man  of  kind  and  con 
tented  disposition.  He  was  always  thankful  to  the 
Great  Spirit  for  every  thing  he  received.  He  even 
stood  in  the  door  of  his  lodge  to  bless  the  birds  that 
flew  past  in  the  summer  evenings;  although,  if  he  had 
been  of  a  complaining  temper,  he  might  have  re 
pined  that  they  were  not  rather  spread  upon  the 
table  for  his  evening  meal. 

The  same  gracious  and  sweet  disposition  was  in 
herited  by  his  eldest  son,  who  had  now  arrived  at  the 
proper  age  to  undertake  the  ceremony  of  the  fast,  to 
learn  what  kind  of  a  spirit  would  be  his  guide  and 
guardian  through  life. 


THE    FATHER    OF    INDIAN    CORN.        331 

Wunzh,  for  this  was  his  name,  had  been  an  obedi 
ent  boy  from  his  infancy — pensive,  thoughtful,  and 
gentle — so  that  he  was  beloved  by  the  whole  family. 

As  soon  as  the  first  buds  of  spring  appeared,  and  the 
delicious  fragrance  of  the  young  year  began  to  sweeten 
the  air,  his  father,  with  the  help  of  his  younger  broth 
ers,  built  for  Wunzh  the  customary  little  lodge,  at  a 
retired  spot  at  some  distance  from  their  own,  where 
lie  would  not  be  disturbed  during  the  solemn  rite. 

To  prepare  himself,  Wunzh  sought  to  clear  his 
heart  of  every  evil  thought,  and  to  think  of  nothing 
that  was  not  good,  and  beautiful,  and  kindly. 

That  he  might  store  his  mind  with  pleasant  ideas 
for  his  dreams,  for  the  first  few  days  he  amused  him 
self  by  walking  in  the  woods  and  over  the  mountains, 
examining  the  early  plants  and  flowers. 

As  he  rambled  far  and  wide,  through  the  wild 
country,  he  felt  a  strong  desire  to  know  how  the 
plants  and  herbs  and  berries  grew,  without  any  aid 
from  man,  and  why  it  was  that  some  kinds  were  good 
to  eat,  and  that  others  were  possessed  of  medicinal 
or  poisonous  power. 

After  he  had  become  too  languid  to  walk  about, 
and  confined  himself  strictly  to  the  lodge,  he  re 
called  these  thoughts,  and  turning  them  in  his  mind, 
he  wished  he  could  dream  of  something  that  would 
prove  a  benefit  to  his  father  and  family,  and  to  all 
others  of  his  fellow-creatures. 


332  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

"  True/'  thought  Wurizh,  "  the  Great  Spirit  made 
all  things,  and  it  is  to  him  that  we  owe  our  lives. 
Could  he  not  make  it  easier  for  us  to  get  our  food, 
than  by  hunting  animals  and  taking  fish?  I  must 
try  to  find  this  out  in'  my  visions/' 

On  the  third  day  Wunzh  became  weak  and  faint, 
and  kept  his  bed.  Suddenly  he  fancied,  as  he  lay 
thus,  that  a  bright  light  came  in  at  the  lodge  door, 
and  ere  he  was  aware,  he  saw  a  handsome  young 
man,  with  a  complexion  of  the  softest  and  purest 
white,  coming  down  from  the  sky,  and  advancing  to 
ward  him. 

The  beautiful  stranger  was  richly  and  gayly  dressed, 
having  on  a  great  many  garments  of  green  and  yel 
low  colors,  but  differing  in* their  deeper  or  lighter 
shades.  He  had  a  plume  of  waving  feathers  on  his 
head,  and  all  his  motions  were  graceful,  and  re 
minded  Wunzh  of  the  deep  green  of  the  summer 
grass,  and  the  clear  amber  of  the  summer  sky,  and 
the  gentle  blowing  of  the  summer  wind.  Beautiful 
as  the  stranger  was,  he  paused  on  a  little  mound  of 
earth,  just  before  the  door  of  the  lodge. 

"  I  am  sent  to  you,  my  friend,"  said  this  celestial 
visitor,  in  a  voice  most  soft  and  musical  to  listen  to, 
"  I  am  sent  to  you  by  that  Great  Spirit  who  made  all 
things  in  the  sky,  and  on  the  earth.  He  has  seen  and 
knows  your  motives  in  fasting.  He  sees  that  it  is 
from  a  kind  and  benevolent  wish  to  do  good  to  your 


TEE    FATHER    OF    INDIA*     CORN.        333 

people,  and  to  procure  a  benefit  for  them  ;  that  you 
do  not  seek  for  strength  in  war,  or  the  praise  of  the 
men  of  the  bloody  hand.  I  am  sent  to  instruct  you 
and  to  show  you  how  you  can  do  your  kindred  good." 

He  then  told  the  young  man  to  arise,  and  to  pre 
pare  to  wrestle  with  him,  as  it  was  only  by  this  means 
that  he  could  hope  to  succeed  in  his  wishes. 

Wunzh  knew  how  wea'k  he  was  from  fasting,  but 
the  voice  of  the  stranger  was  cheery,  and  put  such  a 
courage  in  his  heart,  that  he  promptly  sprang  up,  de 
termined  to  die  rather  than  fail.  Brave  Wunzh!  if  you 
ever  accomplish  any  thing,  it  will  be  through  the  power 
of  the  resolve  that  spake  within  you  at  that  moment. 

He  began  the  trial,  and  after  a  long-sustained 
struggle  he  was  almost  overpowered,  when  the  beau 
tiful  stranger  said  : 

"  My  friend,  it  is  enough  for  once,  I  will  come  again 
to  try  you  ;"  and  smiling  on  him,  he  returned  through 
the  air  .in  the  same  direction  in  which  he  had  come. 

The  next  day,  although  he  saw  how  sweetly  the 
wild-flowers  bloomed  upon  the  slopes,  and  the  birds 
warbled  from  the  woodland,  he  longed  to  see  the  ce 
lestial  visitor,  and  to  hear  his  voice. 

To  his  great  joy  he  reappeared  at  the  same  hour, 
toward  the  going  down  of  the  sun,  and  re-challenged 
Wunzh  to  a  trial  of  strength. 

The  brave  Wunzh  felt  that  his  strength  of  body 
was  even  less  than  on  the  day  before,  but  the  cour- 


334  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

age  of  his  mind  seemed  to  grow.  Observing  this,  and 
how  Wunzh  put  his  whole  heart  in  the  struggle,  the 
stranger  again  spoke  to  him  in  the  words  he  used  be 
fore,  adding : 

"  To-morrow  will  be  your  last  trial.  Be  strong, 
my  friend,  for  this  is  the  only  way  in  which  you  can 
overcome  me  and  obtain  the  boon  you  seek." 

The  light  which  shone  after  him  as  he  left  Wunzh 
was  brighter  than  before. 

On  the  third  day  he  came  again  and  renewed  the 
struggle.  Very  faint  in  body  was  poor  Wunzh,  but 
he  was  stronger  at  heart  than  ever,  and  determined 
to  prevail  now  or  perish.  He  put  forth  his  utmost 
powers,  and  after  a  contest  more  severe  than  either 
of  the  others,  the  stranger  ceased  his  efforts,  and  de 
clared  himself  conquered. 

For  the  first  time  he  entered  Wunzh's  little  fast 
ing-lodge,  and  sitting  down  beside  the  youth,  he  be 
gan  to  deliver  his  instructions  to  him  and  to  inform 
him  in  what  manner  he  should  proceed  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  his  victory. 

"  You  have  won  your  desire  of  the  Great  Spirit," 
said  the  beautiful  stranger.  "  You  have  wrestled 
manfully.  To-morrow  will  be  the  seventh  day  of 
your  fasting.  Your  father  will  give  you  food  to 
strengthen  you,  and  as  it  is  the  last  day  of  trial  you 
will  prevail.  I  know  this,  and  now  tell  you  what  you 
must  do  to  benefit  your  family  and  your  people.  To- 


THE    FATHER    OF    INDIAN     CORN.        335 

morrow/' 'he  repeated,  "  I  shall  meet  you  and  wrestle 
with  you  for  the  last  time.  As  soon  as  you  have  pre 
vailed  against  me,  you  will  strip  off  my  garments  and 
throw  me  down,  clean  the  earth  of  roots  and  weeds, 
make  it  soft,  and  bury  me  in  the  spot.  When  you 
have  done  this,  leave  my  body  in  the  earth,  and  do 
not  disturb  it,  but  come  at  times  to  visit  the  place,  to 
see  whether  I  have  come  to  life,  and  above  all  be 
careful  to  never  let  the  grass  or  weeds  grow  upon  my 
grave.  Once  a  month  cover  me  with  fresh  earth.  If 
you  follow  these  my  instructions  you  will  accomplish 
your  object  of  doing  good  to  your  fellow-Creatures  by 
teaching  them  the  knowledge  I  now  teach  you." 

He  then  shook  Wunzh  by  the  hand  and  disap 
peared,  but  he  was  gone  so  soon  that  Wunzh  could 
not  tell  what  direction  he  took. 

In  the  morning,  Wunzh's  father  came  to  his  lodge 
with  some  slight  refreshments,  saying  : 

"  My  son,  you  have  fasted  long  enough.  If  the 
Great  Spirit  will  favor  you,  he  will  do  it  now.  It  is 
seven  days  since  you  liave  tasted  food,  and  you  must 
not  sacrifice  your  life.  The  Master  of  Life  does  not 
require  that." 

"  My  father,"  replied  Wunzh,  "  wait  till  the  sun 
goes  down.  I  have  a  particular  reason  for  extending 
my  fast  to  that  hour." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  shall  wait  till 
the  hour  arrives,  and  you  shall  be  inclined  to  eat." 


336  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

At  his  usual  hour  of  appearing,  the  beautiful 
sky-visitor  returned,  and  the  trial  of  strength  was  re 
newed.  Although  he  had  not  availed  himself  of  his 
father's  offer  of  food,  Wunzh  felt  that  new  strength 
had  been  given  him.  His  heart  was  mighty  within 
him  to  achieve  some  great  purpose.  Courage  was 
like  the  eagle  that  spreads  his  wings  within  the  tree- 
top  for  a  great  flight,  within  the  bosom  of  the  brave 
Wunzh. 

He  grasped  his  angel  challenger  with  supernatural 
strength,  threw  him  down,  and,  mindful  of  his  own 
instructions,"  tore  from  him  his  beautiful  garments 
and  plume,  and  finding  him  dead,  he  immediately 
buried  him  on  the  spot,  using  all  the  precautions  he 
had  been  told  of,  and  very  confident  was  Wunzh,  all 
the  time,  that  his  friend  would  again  come  to  life. 

Wunzh  now  returned  to  his  father's  lodge,  where 
he  was  warmly  welcomed,  for  as  it  had  been  ap 
pointed  to  him  during  the  days  of  his  fasting  to  walk 
apart  with  Heaven,  he  was  not  permitted  to  see  any 
human  face  save  that  of  his  father,  the  representative 
to  the  little  household  upon  earth  of  the  Good  Father 
who  is  in  Heaven. 

Wunzh  partoo^:  sparingly  of  the  meal  that  had 
been  prepared  for  him,  and  once  more  mingled  in 
the  cares  and  sports  of  the  family.  But  he  never  for 
a  moment  forgot  the  grave  of  his  friend.  He  care 
fully  visited  it  throughout  the  spring,  and  weeded 


THE     FATHER     OF    INDIAN    CORN.        337 

out  the  grass,  and  kept  the  ground  in  a  soft  and  pli- 
unt  state  ;  and  sometimes,  when  the  brave  Wunzh 
fh ought  of  his  friend  that  was  gone  from  his  sight, 
he  dropped  a  tear  upon  the  earth  where  he  lay. 

Watching  and  tending,  and  moistening  the  earth 
with  his  tears,  it  was  not  long  before  Wunzh  saw  the 
tops  of  green  plumes  coming  through  the  ground  ; 
and  the  more  faithful  he  was  in  obeying  his  instruc 
tions  in  keeping  the  ground  in  order,  and  in  cherish 
ing  the  memory  of  his  departed  friend,  the  faster 
•  they  grew.  He  was,  however,  careful  to  conceal  the 
charge  of  the  earth  which  he  had  from  his  father. 

Days  and  weeks  had  passed  in  this  way  ;  the  sum 
mer  was  drawing  toward  a  close,  when  one  day,  after 
a  long  absence  in  hunting,  Wunzh  invited  his  father 
to  follow  him  to  the  quiet  and  lonesome  spot  of  his 
former  fast. 

The  little  fasting-lodge  had  been  removed,  and  the 
weeds  kept  from  growing  on  the  circle  where  it  had 
stood ;  but  in  its  place  rose  a  tall  and  graceful  plant, 
surmounted  with  nodding  plumes  and  stately  leaves, 
and  golden  clusters.  There  was  in  its  aspect  and 
bearing  the  deep  green  of  the  summer  grass,  the  clear 
amber  of  the  summer  sky,  and  the  gentle  blowing  of 
the  summer  wind. 

"  It  is  my  friend  !"  shouted  Wunzh,  "  it  is  the 
friend  of  all  mankind.  It  is  Mondawmin  :  it  is  our 
Indian  Corn  !  We  need  no  longer  rely  on  hunting 

15 


338  THE    INDIAN    FAIRY    BOOK. 

alone,  for  as  long  as  this  gift  is  cherished  and  taken 
care  of,  the  ground  itself  will  give  us  a  living." 

He  then  pulled  an  ear. 

"  See,  my  father,"  said  he,  "  this  is  what  I  fasted 
for.  The  Great  Spirit  has  listened  to  my  voice,  and 
sent  us  something  new,  and  henceforth  our  people  will 
not  alone  depend  upon  the  chase  or  upon  the  waters." 

Wunzh  then  communicated  to  his  father  the  in 
structions  given  to  him  by  the  stranger.  He  told  him 
that  the  broad  husks  must  be  torn  away,  as  he  had 
pulled  off  the  garments  in  his  wrestling,  and  having 
.done  this,  he  directed  him  how  the  ear  must  be  held 
before  the  fire  till  the  outer  skin  became  brown— as 
he  complexion  of  his  angel  friend  had  been  tinted  by 
the  sun — while  all  the  milk  was  retained  in  the  grain. 

The  whole  family,  in  high  spirits,  and  deeply  grate 
ful  to  the  Merciful  Master  who  gave  it,  assisted  in  a 
feast  on  the  newly-grown  ears  of  corn. 

So  came  that  mighty  blessing  into  the  world,  and 
we  owe  all  of  those  beautiful  fields  of  healthful  grain 
to  the  dreain  of  the  brave  boy  Wunzh. 


THE     END. 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWEI 

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